La Comtesse de Savigny
by Laurennke
Summary: After the death of her father, a young girl is sent to live with her aunt. However, her aunt carries a grudge that will change the course of the girl's life forever.
1. Prologue: Once Upon A Time

**La Comtesse de Savigny**

**Author's Note:**'_La Comtesse de Savigny_' is a story that was inspired by the movie '_Ever After_'. I wondered what would happen if the character of 'the Baroness' was a blood relation to that of 'Danielle,' rather than the typical wicked stepmother of the '_Cinderella_' story genre. I therefore created new characters based on the character types present in the movie (although I liked their names so much that some of the characters have been given similar names to their predecessors). The only characters who remain the same from the movie are Henry, King Francis, and Paulette. It was also my challenge to give the story as much of a historical grounding as I could. This is the result:

**prologue**

once upon a time

"We regretfully inform you of the passing of Louis Francois, the Comte de Savigny, on the fifteenth day of April, 1529. He is survived by his daughter, Arielle Louise de Savigny."

Loretta d'Aurillac stared at the letter given to her by a messenger from the Records Office, her entire body as cold as ice despite the inviting spring weather that pervaded the gardens outside. Her eyes began to water and her face formed an expression of distress as she tried to focus her attention on the man who had delivered the shocking announcement. _Louis is dead?_ Her shoulders shook as she took shallow breaths. _First my husband and now my brother – am I to have everything that is important taken from me?_ A lump threatened to form in the back of her throat as she realised with remorse how little time she had spent with Louis over the past few years.

"Baroness, we are truly sorry for your loss, but there is the matter of the child to consider," the messenger reminded her, obviously unaccustomed to such displays of emotion. Composing herself, Loretta focused upon the conversation at hand.  
"Oh yes. Arielle," Loretta acknowledged as a second coldness settled itself inside of her. She had hoped that the messenger would not speak about her niece. "I haven't seen her since her mother died. The poor thing – left without parents. It's such a soulless world."  
"Pardon me, Baroness, but did not Jacqueline de Savigny die in childbirth?" the messenger questioned, shifting from one foot to another.  
"Yes, that is correct," Loretta stated, taken aback by the messenger's intimate knowledge of her family's affairs. _But of course he knows_, she dismissed it, _he is from the Records Office, after all, and Jacqueline's status would have entitled her to be in the centre of every gossip circle. One probably couldn't help _not _knowing her fate._ "Louis and my families have been unable to visit each other – business has been so demanding these last few years."

This returned Loretta to thinking of the last time she had seen her brother – at his wife's funeral seven years ago. How she had envied Jacqueline's beauty, even then, with her thick blonde hair spilling over the bier and a white lily clasped in her hands, its colour reminiscent of her once-luminous skin. The King and Queen had even been there to pay their respects to her! How Jacqueline had made Louis weep uncontrollable tears with her passing brought rage to Loretta and how Arielle had survived as a testimony of Jacqueline's presence on this Earth angered her tremendously. It was because of all of this that she had deigned not to visit with her brother and his daughter.

"You are Mademoiselle Arielle's next of kin, Baroness," the messenger reminded Loretta as she snapped out of her retrospect, "Shall I inform the young girl of your intention of providing for her?" Loretta clenched her jaw to prevent it from dropping at this request. How could she take that _woman's_ daughter into her home? Had she not her own family to care for?  
"My dear man! You must surely understand the situation I am in. I must consult with my daughters upon this matter," Loretta ensured that the messenger had comprehended the seriousness of his proposal but then, afraid of sounding too harsh towards her orphaned niece, cautiously added: "It must be known to you that however little they saw of him, my daughters loved their uncle very much. We shall try to do everything we can to help Arielle."  
"It would seem so," the messenger acknowledged her intentions before hastily concluding his visit. "Shall I send for your answer in the morning?"  
"You shall," Loretta replied and watched him ride off, feeling relief wash through her. The tension of the awkward proposal had been lifted from her, if only until morning.


	2. Chapter 1: The Prince\'s Arrival

**La Comtesse de Savigny**

**chapter one**

the prince's arrival at the chateau d'aurillac

1539

"How kind of you to think of us, Your Highness," Loretta gushed as she dropped into a graceful curtsy, and listened for the crunch of Prince Henri's boots against the gravel driveway as he dismounted from his horse.  
"I assure you, Baroness, it is nothing," the prince said as Loretta raised herself. "My father details that we should visit all of the noble families in the land, in order to keep in touch with how our country is progressing."

Loretta attempted to look interested in what the Prince was saying, however, her country's politics had never interested her. Her brother had been well educated in order to fulfil his later role as a Comte while she was coached only in an aesthetic manner. Loretta could clearly remember her lessons: 'Take care in your appearance. Mind your language – no nobleman wants a crude wife!' These, plus many other qualities passed down to her from her mother she had instilled in to her daughters in turn. In Loretta's mind, it was not women's work to care about money and politics, but rather to socialise and through marriage climb the social ladder into supremacy.

Though it seemed that upbringing were of less matter these days than it had in past years. These days they'd let anyone pay court, with the introduction of the noblesse de robe who could simply buy their way into nobility, instead of fighting for the right has her forefathers had done. _Bad blood mixing with the noblest – it would be the ruination of the country_. It had been the ruination of her brother. The day the local merchant showed up with papers proving his new status in one hand, and his only child in the other, was the day that Louis lost himself. Elevated to the title of the Comtesse de Savigny when Loretta's parents had died, Jacqueline lost no time making friends in high places, and before long had the ear of both the King and the Queen. There was little doubt in Loretta's mind that Jacqueline would have tried matching her first-born daughter to one of the royal sons. _Luckily, she died before that transaction could have occurred, otherwise poor Prince Henri would have endured five years of marriage to Arielle de Savigny by now._

Prince Henri. There should be only one girl to marry him. Loretta had borne two children to her late husband, the Baron d'Aurillac. Two girls. Nicolette, the elder and the most receiving of Loretta's affections, had been destined to marry the prince since the moment she was born, Loretta was sure of it. Nicolette outshone her younger sister, Adrienne, in every way that mattered, and so Loretta spent much of her time doting upon her, and preparing her for the life she was doubtless meant to lead: that of the Queen of France. If Loretta could see Nicolette to the throne, it would mean that she would have overcome her sister-in-law. It would prove to the world that Loretta d'Aurillac was just as worthy of notice and attention, if not more so, than Jacqueline de Savigny ever was. And now Prince Henri was here at her chateau. Her plan was proceeding perfectly.

By this time, the pair had moved from the driveway into the entrance hall of the chateau. It openly displayed the wealth and prestige of the Aurillacs, from the gilded doorframes and the imposing coat-of-arms, to the thick woven tapestries that hung high on the walls. The candelabras on the side table and the chandelier that floated in the centre of the hall were all lit, and the flickering candle flame illuminated the dark wooden staircase that reached down from the second floor of the chateau.

On cue, Loretta's daughters carefully descended the stairs. Upon reaching the bottom, they both curtsied to the Prince. Loretta took this opportunity to introduce Prince Henri to her elder daughter: "Your Highness, may I present to you my daughter, Nicolette Leala Adeline from the House of Aurillac?" Loretta watched with satisfaction as the prince turned his attention to the blonde-haired girl, and nodded. As he courteously shifted his gaze to her second daughter, who was hiding behind her mess of dark hair, Loretta quickly added, "And Adrienne," incredulous that Prince Henri had not been more taken with Nicolette's beauty.

Caught off guard at his politeness, Loretta searched for a way to force the prince to concentrate only on Nicolette. After leading the gathering into the dining hall, she indicated for them to sit. Noting with satisfaction that Nicolette had positioned herself directly opposite from Prince Henri, Loretta felt it the opportune time to leave them by themselves for a while. "Dinner shall be served shortly," she announced, "Nicolette, entertain our guest, while I ensure everything is all right in the kitchen."

* * *

The kitchen was in a dreadful state. Steaming saucepans threatened to boil over with their liquid contents and dirty pots covered every available space as the three kitchen staff rushed to create the perfect four-course meal for their superiors. In the midst of it all, a serving maid busied herself in cleaning up after them. What had been a white apron when she'd been given it from the wash this morning was now smeared with grease and fat with prints clearly visible from where she had wiped her hands. Loretta was enraged. This was not part of the plan. 

"Arielle! Look at yourself!" Loretta exclaimed in dismay and contempt. "Honestly! Prince Henri is dining with us tonight, and everything must be perfect. The entire household knows that the very reason his father is sending him may be to find a wife!"  
"Yes, Madame," Arielle answered with the tone afforded to a mistress by her servants. Loretta would have no one challenge her as to their position in the household, not even her own niece. Loretta glanced once again at Arielle's dishevelled appearance. Not only was her apron unclean, but her long dark-blonde hair had not been tied back, and was left to hang limply over her shoulders. How could Loretta expect to make a good impression upon the prince if her servants presented themselves like this? Especially Arielle, who had served each and every meal to Loretta and her daughters for the past ten years, and was the most likely of the servants to be noticed by the prince as she set his courses before him. Something had to be done.

A quick inspection of the kitchen and its adjoining hallways turned up Paulette, the matron of the household. An aging woman, she had served Louis before he had died and Loretta came into possession of his property through right of kin. Paulette was organised and above all things able to be trusted. And better yet, Paulette could handle Arielle.

"Paulette?" Loretta gestured towards Arielle, "Have her cleaned up. And for the love of God, do something with her hair! I am certain that the prince does _not_ wish to see strands of it in his soup!"  
"Yes, milady," Paulette answered respectfully before ushering Arielle out of the kitchen and into the servants quarters. After an update of how the dinner was coming along from the cook, Loretta returned to the dining room, reassured that the night would be splendid.

* * *

Henri diverted his attention away from Nicolette's babblings as the Baroness d'Aurillac re-entered the dining room, and apologised for the delay of dinner. It was quite all right with him - he was hardly ravenous. He was quite the opposite, in fact. 

As Nicolette continued chatting away, Henri took the time to observe the family. Although he had seen them quite often at court, he had always taken pains to avoid them: a single mother of daughters more often than not signalled a strong desire for a son-in-law with money to sustain them and power for the mother to wield, and Henri had no wish to give anyone that opportunity.

The Baron d'Aurillac had died fighting against the Spaniards - an honourable death - and so the Baroness was allowed to remain on her lands as a widow's recompense. In life, the Baron had been a respected man, reserved, reasonable. Henri had never heard a bad word said against him.

The Baroness d'Aurillac, on the other hand, was a different story. She was vain and had grown more so since the passing of her husband. However, age was catching up with her. Though painted, her face was tarnished with thin wrinkles, and her skin was of a greyish pallor. Her hair was dark, and dyed with whatever ladies use to remedy their disappearing youth. She carried herself purposefully, and wore a dress of crushed silk and ornaments that exemplified the prosperous state that widowhood and the proprietorship of her late brother's estate had bestowed upon her.

The younger daughter, Adrienne, was a shy thing, and neither contributed to the conversation, nor looked up from the wood grain of the table that she stared at so intensely. The actions of her second daughter obviously didn't matter much to the Baroness, who appeared more deeply concerned with the performance of her first-born.

The Baroness' elder daughter, Nicolette, was quite pretty; her wide blue eyes and flaxen hair made her look like a Nordic deity. However, despite Nicolette having all the aesthetic charms a man could wish for, Henri was uneasy. Each movement she made and each syllable she spoke was obviously carefully practised in order to beguile him.

He could sense these things; this was not the first time it had happened. It seemed that everywhere he went the daughters of influential courtiers surrounded him, all competing for his notice. True, he was almost twenty – quite a suitable age to marry - but some days the constant attention became too much and he had begun to wish that he could disappear. Run away to a place where nobody cared that he was Henri, the Crown Prince of France; to a place where he could just be himself without worrying about his actions contradicting Royal Protocol; to a place where he didn't have to be minded by the Royal Guard at the insistence of his father. He wanted something new, something different. Something that would take all of his emotions, twist them around, and make him feel exhilarated. Not attending stuffy formal dinners with the local nobility.

"I always thought it interesting, Your Highness, that the King chose to build a bridge at Larrieux, rather than Jauntefort. I was under the impression that Jauntefort was a more worthy location for such a construction by far," the Baroness interrupted Henri's thoughts as the first course was brought out.  
"I believe that the reason why my father ordered it to be built and Larrieux and not at Jauntefort was because a great deal more trade is carried out there and the bridge would help facilitate transportation," Henri answered, attempting to refrain from making the Baroness seem a simpleton. He smiled as a warm bowl of soup was placed in front of him. Although the company was not desirable, the aroma was inviting. He picked up his spoon to begin when Nicolette's shrill voice redirected his attention.

"Can someone _please_ learn to cook in this house?" Nicolette complained, the twists of her hair emphasising each syllable, "This spoon is dirty, and furthermore, my soup is cold!" Henri peered at her soup in disbelief. A distinct tendril of steam was rising from her bowl - it was by no means cold. He wondered if this, too, was an act to divert his glance towards her. If it was, he found it to be a rather desperate attempt.

"I shall replace it right away, my Lady," a young serving maid appeared, and carefully gathered up Nicolette's bowl and spoon. Henri found himself unabashedly staring at her. A white apron protected her blue dress from the dirt she must surely contend with, and her blonde hair was weaved tightly into a plait. However, her rough dress did little to hide her attractiveness. Her blue eyes glanced at him before she hastily returned to the kitchen. Henri reprimanded himself for being taken with her. He was not at the Chateau d'Aurillac for sport. Bringing his attention back to Nicolette, Henri found her smiling happily at him. She had obviously thought he had been staring at her.

* * *

Arielle put the last of the plates away, yawning as she did so. The Baroness and Nicolette had stayed up after the prince had taken his leave from them, dissecting the night's events and eventually drawing the conclusion that Prince Henri would be sure to repeat his visit at the next available opportunity. The kitchen staff helping to clean up and clear away took turns in mimicking them, miming and exaggerating their hand movements as the Baroness and Nicolette discussed the success of the dinner, the eligibility of the prince, and the joys of living life as the royals did. Each imitation drew such laughter from the rest of the staff that it threatened to bubble over from silent smiles to loud guffaws, and draw the unwanted attention of the Baroness. 

Arielle had joined in with the frivolity, for the feelings of her aunt and cousins mattered little to her anymore. When she had first arrived at the Chateau d'Aurillac, she had been so full of hope. She had felt fear of meeting family she didn't even know, but also anticipation of finding somewhere new she could belong. However once the messenger who accompanied her to the chateau had passed out of the gates, her 'Aunt Loretta' had turned into 'The Baroness', and the room Arielle had been given had been turned into her prison cell until which time she decided to obey the Baroness' orders and undertake a servant's duties. Arielle hadn't given up without a fight. She had spent a whole month and a half screaming at her aunt, clawing at the door, and attempting to prise the bars from her window, all the while wondering why things hadn't gone as expected. Paulette had eventually reasoned with Arielle that it would be better to submit to the Baroness' wishes than to spend her life embittered, imprisoned and shut away from the world.

So life had gone on, and Arielle had grown up neglected by her real family, but finding a surrogate family among the servants of the household, some who knew about her plight, and many who didn't. She had watched as her cousins were tutored, given expensive gifts, and debuted at grand balls. She had heard them gossiping about their neighbours and the townsfolk. And of late, she had heard them speaking of Prince Henri. The Baroness seemed to have it fixated in her mind that, if given his choice, the prince would doubtless choose Nicolette to be his queen, and had set about planting the idea in her daughter's head. The Baroness was right, Arielle supposed, thinking over the dinner. As she had picked up Nicolette's dishes to return them to the kitchen, she had noted that the prince's eyes were riveted on Nicolette. Perhaps Nicolette _was_ destined to become Prince Henri's wife.

* * *

"Francois, I don't see why we need to be talking about this now. He is not even twenty!" Elenore, the Queen of France, informed her husband. The king rose from his throne and joined his wife at the arched window. "It is because he is nearly twenty that he needs to think about his future. His and the future of France!" 

Elenore sighed audibly. Francois knew that she'd be like this the moment he considered telling her his plan. Elenore had been a lady in the court of Vienna when he was forced into marriage with her to free himself from the capture of Spain. He'd wanted to marry her as much as she'd wanted to marry him, but over the course of the years, they'd settled in to a comfortable relationship of distance. Elenore had no taste for the everyday life at court, and so kept herself at residence in the Chateau Blois, instead of the grandeur of Fontainebleau, where court was held during the warmer months. However, he had called her here on account of Henri. Of all of her stepchildren - and Francois had had seven with his first wife, Claude, - Henri was her favourite, as they shared a liking for a similar sort of music. And Francois thought that Elenore might appreciate a chance to express her opinion on the matter. Unfortunately, he had forgotten her Austrian stubbornness.  
"But marriage? To a Spanish princess?" Elenore spat the words out.  
"What?" Francois retaliated. "Would you prefer a Russian or an English one?"  
"I just don't think that this is something we have to discuss right now. For one thing, Maria's only ten!"  
"But a marriage with Spain will ensure our alliance. Think of it: perpetual peace!" When Elenore did not respond, Francois slouched grumpily and surveyed the courtyard outside. It was filled with noblemen and women spending the sunlight hours gossiping, betting and trading stories of their glory in one thing or another. Beyond them, the rooves of the town were visible. Thin spindles of smoke were wafting from the houses of the commoners and the bourgeois as they went about their everyday life. Oh, to escape his battling wife and venture out!

"Perhaps joining with Spain isn't so important at this moment. They haven't advanced for a while now," Francois conceded. "But that does not mean he is off the hook: a well-off member of the nobility will do – one with a good name and reputation."  
"But Francois!"  
"No. Six years ago he was to be married to Catherine de Medici until that fell apart, and God knows that Madame de Poitiers hasn't helped." Francois thought about the occurrences of the past nine years. Diane de Poitiers had been introduced into the castle to mentor Henri; however, it seemed to have had no effect on him at all. He still had no direction in life, no sense of duty.  
"By God, Elenore, it is time that boy grew up and took responsibility for something. And if marriage won't do it, I don't know what will."

* * *

Henri strode towards the throne room, accompanied by the Captain of the Royal Guard, Alexandre Perrain. Although Alexandre was some ten years older than Henri they were firm friends, through months spent away at war together. Alexandre could always be counted on to amuse Henri, even by flattening his mousy hair and rolling his hazel eyes in a gross impression of the Queen herself. He was there, too, when Henri needed to complain about his father. 

It was his father that he was going to see. He detested such meetings - his father always found some way of disparaging him. If it wasn't because he was tarnishing his family's reputation then it was about him neglecting his duty. He was sick of it.

As the doors were opened for him, he noted with despair that his stepmother was also present. For her to be here, instead of at Blois, meant that something important was going to be said. Henri didn't like it.

"Henri, as you are well aware, one day you will be the king of France. With respect to that, there is an urgent matter that I need to discuss with you."  
"What is it?" he responded apathetically.  
"In order to secure the future of France, I am arranging a marriage between you and the Spanish King's daughter."  
"But Francois! You just said – "  
"I know what I just said, Elenore. But I've changed my mind." Both looked to Henri, anticipating his response.

Henri was in shock. He knew his father's plan had always been an arranged marriage – that was just how things worked. But marriage _now_ would end everything he dreamed of. He would be tied down to a predictable future and saddled with rules and regulations, hounded by Royal protocol, followed by the Royal Guard and never allowed to live life the way he wanted. He had to try to get out of it.  
"No! You cannot expect me to marry someone I've not even met! I won't do it!" Henri challenged his father in an attempt to have the arrangement postponed, at the very least. He secretly chided himself for how childish his words were. How could he expect to ever be granted privileges when he always sounded like a whining brat?  
"Well that's easily fixed! I'm holding a ball in four weeks. You can meet her then." Henri again opened his mouth to protest his father's decision, but was silenced as the King dismissed him with a wave of his hand. He would accept no objections to the marriage.

* * *

Brown clods of dirt flew from underneath the horse's hooves as Henri cantered away from the King, away from the palace, away from the town. He felt both angry with his father and helpless about his situation. Why did he always have to be so concerned about his future? 

The riding helped to alleviate some of the tension he was feeling. Henri slowed his horse down and dismounted to let it drink from a nearby stream. The two Guardsmen who had been following him did the same. Henri had no idea of where he was riding to, but he knew that he had to stay away from his father for as long as possible. Given time, his father would see reason and rethink his 'arrangement'.

Henri lowered himself onto a fallen log and accepted the cask of water offered him. There was something mysterious about being in the forest. From the castle windows, the miles of pines looked picturesque, but it was something quite different to be among them, to see their tall heads towering over the ground, to smell their scent, to walk their carpet of golden needles. It was as if you could lose yourself among these trees, if you wanted to.

Lose himself. That's what would happen if his father's plans were to go through. He'd be like an object put for sale; a pawn in a gigantic chessboard. Unwilling, unready, but forced to do his duty all the same.

A movement across the other side of the stream distracted him from his train of thought.

* * *

Arielle reached up and plucked an apple from the tree she was standing under. Placing it with the others nestled in a woven reed basket, she congratulated herself on being able to find so many. Most of the apples in the orchard were still green and unripe, making it a challenge to meet the Baroness' requested amount. 

The sound of flowing water drew her away from the apple orchard towards the bubbling stream that wove its way through the countryside. She had always loved it. It formed part of a treasured memory, for when she was little, her father had often taken her on walks, following the river from their old chateau all the way down to the town. Arielle smiled. Back then she would have been reprimanded for picking apples. How things had changed!

Before she could reach the water, however, she heard splashing. From out of the pine trees emerged three men on horseback: two members of the King's personal bodyguard, and the Prince of France himself.

As they reigned in their horses to come to a stop before her, Arielle quickly placed her basket of apples on the ground and bowed low. She dared not say anything for fear of jeopardising protocol. The last thing that she wanted was for her behaviour to reflect badly on or even get back to the Baroness. She knew she couldn't bear the punishment.

"You may rise," the commanding voice of the Prince spoke, and Arielle obeyed, although still refraining from meeting his eye, as Royal protocol dictated. The words of her aunt reverberated in her head: _The Prince may choose Nicolette as his bride! If you should in any way destroy her chances of becoming Queen, you won't know what's coming to you!_ It was important that she concentrate on acting appropriately in front of the Prince.  
"You are the girl who served at the Baroness d'Aurillac's last night."  
"Yes, Your Highness," Arielle confirmed, unsure of what else she could say and of the reason for the Prince speaking to her. He was abrupt in his sentences, and arrogant in his manner. She wondered why he was speaking to her, and not one of the Guardsmen who were accompanying him. Surely they were just as curious as she was to discover why their services had been refused?  
"Tell me your name."  
"Arielle, Your Highness." Arielle suddenly realised the time. She would be expected back at the Chateau in order to prepare the table for luncheon. If she stayed away much longer, her tardiness would certainly be noted by the Baroness.  
"Forgive me, I should come to my purpose. I have come wanting to pay a visit to the Baroness, only to have found myself lost in the forest. Could you point us in the direction of the Chateau?"  
Arielle smiled before answering the question, relieved that the information the Prince had asked of her would not place her in danger of her aunt's wrath. In fact, it might improve the Baroness' spirits, for surely he intended to call on Nicolette.  
"It is that way, to the north," she replied, pointing back to where the pine trees and apple orchard eventually gave way to the Chateau d'Aurillac.  
"Good. Continue on, then," the Prince indicated the basket of apples at her feet. Arielle did as he instructed, and picked up the basket as she watched the trio gallop away. She wondered once again why the Prince had spoken to her personally, instead of persuading one of his servants to do it for him. She quickly brushed it off. She had no time to dwell on it - there was the preparation of lunch to think about.

* * *

"Here are the apples, Paulette," Arielle handed over the basket as Paulette began to wash and peel them. She had not been there to prepare and set the table for lunch but, luckily, Paulette had been there to cover for her.  
"Where have you been, child?" Paulette questioned her. "It was fortunate the prince arrived when he did, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to take over your duties for you." Arielle wondered whether she should tell Paulette the reason for her being late. She didn't want a big scene made of it, and especially did not want the Baroness to hear that Arielle had spoken to Prince Henri directly. But then she felt it wrong to lie to Paulette about her whereabouts. The aging woman had been her governess back when her father was still alive and was the only matriarchal figure Arielle had ever had. No, she must be truthful to Paulette. 

"The prince and his entourage stopped me in my work in order to ask for directions to the chateau," Arielle reported, reaching for the freshly baked loaves of bread.  
"Prince Henri. Could you imagine, mistress, if your papa was still alive? The prince would be paying you visits, instead of Nicolette." Arielle raised her eyebrows at the comment.  
"Don't be silly, Paulette," she scoffed. "I'm no game player. They'd still be trying to entwine him in their intrigues. I doubt it would be much different to what it's like now." With that, she turned on her heel and headed towards the dining room.  
"It'd be something to wonder about, though," Arielle heard Paulette state to her disappearing back.

But Arielle did not want to wonder about it. What happened had happened. Her father was dead, and she and the servants of her household now worked under the Baroness' supervision in return for their board and keep and nothing would ever change. She had realised a long time ago that this was her path in life. Nobody had ever come to check on Arielle's progress within the d'Aurillac household; none of her father's friends, not even the genial messenger from the Records Office who had delivered her to her aunt's had asked after her in the ten years that had passed. It was obvious that there was nobody in France who was concerned about whether Arielle de Savigny was alive or dead. There was nothing she could do.

"Could you imagine, Mother, living in the palace with all of their fine things?" Nicolette mused as she reached out for the bread that Arielle had just set upon the table. "All of the gowns, and jewels, and ladies-in-waiting."  
"Speaking of the palace," the Baroness smiled, "The Queen has invited us to a garden party. You never know, Nicolette, Prince Henri may be there." Nicolette giggled in delight at this assumption and popped a piece of bread into her mouth.

Arielle rolled her eyes as she returned to the kitchen. Their minds were always on the Royals! _At least Nicolette had something to look forward to in life_. As for herself, she was doomed to being a servant forever. The Baroness would make sure of it.

* * *

A garden party? Yes, Henri could see it now. Tea, cake, and a dozen girls vying for his attention. Well, not anymore. No, today he was going to make a change. To do something because he _wanted_ to do it, not because it was expected of him. There would be no garden party for Prince Henri. 

But how to get out of it? If he simply walked out of the castle grounds, the Royal Guard would doubtless follow him, and he didn't want that. For once in his life, he wanted to know that he was completely alone. He crossed the length of his room to stand at the window. The golden sun was just setting, leaving a stream of sunshine that slashed across the palace courtyard. The only way out was obvious.

The rays of sunlight led to a cluster of tall trees, just inside the walls of the castle. He could have kicked himself for not noticing it before. It was so simple. In the dark of night he would sneak across the grounds, climb the trees and scale the fence to freedom - or at least freedom from the garden party.

But there was one problem. If he were to do this at night, his parents would think that he was up here, in his chambers, and Guardsmen would most certainly be stationed outside his door. How would he get from the room in the palace to the surface of the ground? There was only one thing for it: rope. He began gathering sheets from his bed…

* * *

The heavy wooden door closed behind her as Arielle left the Chateau d'Aurillac. _Free at last_. It wasn't often she was given time away from her chores, but with the Baroness at the garden party, there had been no need to prepare lunch, and so she could escape from the confines of the Chateau. 

She was headed for the bubbling stream that she had not been able to visit yesterday. When she had been interrupted by Prince Henri. She couldn't remember ever being as close to a Royal as she had in the last few days, even when her father had been alive. The prince had been so intimidating, so arrogant, so used to everything being done for him and always getting his own way. The way in which he sat on his horse and the manner in which he spoke to her certainly indicated that, but when she had glanced at his face he seemed troubled. What had he to be troubled about? He was the Crown Prince of France!

And Nicolette would be his princess. She would stand next to the prince on their wedding day in all of her bridal perfection, with the Baroness standing behind them, beaming, proud that it was her daughter that had won the affections of the prince, and prepared to lord it over those mothers who had failed. "Presenting Her Royal Highness, Princess Nicolette!" Arielle announced, attempting to curtsy to the invisible figure of her cousin. The words did not easily slide off her tongue. It would serve the Baroness right if Nicolette didn't marry well. It would be a good form of payback for her actions. "But it wouldn't help me," Arielle said in dismay.

She knew she had told Paulette that she didn't care about how her life would have been different had her father still been alive. It was futile - it wouldn't change her current situation, daydreaming 'what if'. But it would amuse her to try it.

Pretend to be the daughter of a Comte - could she remember? Only of what was expected of a seven-year-old child - there must be a great deal more etiquette one learned in the ten years between seven and seventeen. Still, it couldn't be too hard to only pretend. She had seen Nicolette and Adrienne be taught what they should and should not do and how they should and should not act. Arielle took a deep breath.

"Presenting the Comtesse de Savigny!" she announced, adopting her mother's title and curtsying in the manner of what she imagined occurred at Court. She straightened her back, held her head high, and walked purposefully towards the stream, imagining courtiers gasping at the intricacy of her dress and the greatness of her family's propriety.

"My lady, allow me to give you these flowers," Arielle imitated a male's deep voice, breaking her stance to gather wildflowers that grew scattered throughout the forest. "Why, thankyou, they are beautiful," she cradled the flowers in her arms and continued to make her way towards the stream. Upon reaching it, she stared down, the flowing water capturing her attention, mesmerising her, bringing back memories. As she gazed into the water, she half expected to see her father's face, with his kind hazel eyes and his comforting smile. Instead, her own was reflected, her hair hanging limp, her skin streaked with dirt and flour, her ragged clothes that of a servant. It was not the appearance of a Comte's daughter.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it, Arielle?" a voice not her own questioned her. She whirled around, surprised to find Prince Henri standing there. How long had he been watching her? How foolish would he think her play-acting? Why had he remembered her name?  
"Your Highness! You startled me," Arielle admitted, still in character as the Comtesse de Savigny. Finally remembering the constraints of Royal protocol, she bowed down low before the Prince, cursing herself that she had conducted herself with such disregard in front of him. She could only hope it would not get back to the Baroness.

She glanced at him, noting with relief that he was not going to chastise her for her impertinence. Instead, he was looking at her arms.  
"Been picking flowers, have you?" the prince gestured towards the wildflowers she still held, "An odd occupation for a servant girl who should be working." So that's what he thinks, that she's neglecting her chores and shirking her duty? She must explain.  
"Forgive me, Your Highness, but I have finished with my duties for today. My ah - I mean, the Baroness has gone to Her Majesty's garden party, and Nicolette and Adrienne have accompanied her, and have left no further tasks to complete," Arielle disclosed, feeling intolerably fenced in with the stream behind her and the prince in front of her. Since this meeting could not get any worse, she felt she should attempt to rectify her standing with the Baroness by putting in a good word for Nicolette. "I thought Your Highness was to join them. Nicolette was so excited about going to lunch with you, Sire."  
"As you can see, she will not have the pleasure," the Prince replied, smiling at her in a manner that made Arielle uncomfortable.

She was wary of him. The Guardsmen that usually followed him around were nowhere to be seen. His horse, too, was non-existent, which means he must have walked here for some reason, some purpose. But what?

'Who knows?' Arielle thought. _Perhaps some unconventional way of surprising Nicolette. That would please the Baroness!_ Whatever the reason, Arielle felt uneasy, and knew that she should get back to the Chateau and rest so she was in good spirits by the time her aunt returned.

"You must excuse me, Your Highness," Arielle explained, "The Baroness is expected home soon, and I am certain she will have more tasks for me to complete." He gave no response, but let her pass as she ran quickly toward the north, to the Chateau and familiarity.

* * *

Henri sighed as he strode through the palace gates, the guards stationed there surely curious to see him return to Fontainebleau when they had not seen him leave, but knowing better than to stop him and question him about it. What was wrong with him? When he escaped the palace last night, he had headed without a second thought towards the Chateau d'Aurillac. Not to visit with Nicolette, or speak to the Baroness, but to decidedly search for Arielle. 

Arielle. Even her name was beautiful. He whispered it to himself, a smile creeping onto his face as he did so. How could this be? He had known her for only two days, and already he couldn't shake her from his thoughts. She had no place in his world - a pitiful serving girl of little consequence.

However, Henri felt compelled to speak with her and spend time with her. He felt as if she could change him, as if by some sorcery she could release him from all of his troubles. Watching her playing in the forest had convinced him of it. She had been so free, so unconstricted in her demeanour. He wished he could share her freedom, to pretend he was something he was not, to forget twenty years of lessons and transport himself into some other person's shoes.

And yet when he did get to speak with her his words had been so stilted, so _stupid_, he felt mortified remembering them. He had demanded, ordered, scorned. How could he ever have a normal conversation when he was so unwittingly intimidating towards her? She'd retreat further into her role as the silent subservient servant and he'd never find out anything about her. And against all his common sense, he wanted to find out. He wanted to know more.

"Henri - there you are!" Henri stopped in his tracks as Alexandre approached him. "We've been looking for you all day. Your father was worried - the rope. No one knew where you'd gone. Where did you go? You missed the garden party."  
"It doesn't matter," Henri dismissed it, and leaned against the castle wall. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, feeling the late-afternoon sun warm his skin. If only he could be what his father wanted him to be. His father wanted him to be his brother, who had died three years ago from pleurisy. It was his brother who was the responsible one, the one who was trained to be the future King of France. Henri was not prepared to be the Dauphin, and it seemed like he could never please his father.  
"Alex, what do you think I should do?"  
"About what?"  
"About this Spanish thing."  
"Marrying Princess Maria?" Alexandre asked. Princess Maria. She was no more than a child. The engagement alone would have to last for four years, before she was at a marriageable age. What had his father been thinking?  
"I can't marry her. She's half my age!" Half his age, Spanish, and not Arielle. 'Not even close,' Henri thought, remembering portraits he had been shown of the Spanish royal family. Henri looked at Alexandre. Should he tell him about Arielle? No, the idea that a servant had so captured his attention was ludicrous. Alexandre would only tease him about it, as if Henri wasn't serious about the situation he was in. But he needed his friend's wisdom. And he needed Arielle banished from his thoughts.

"Tell me, how do you get a girl who could never be yours out of your head?"  
"A girl who could never be yours? "Alexandre smirked, "Henri, has it escaped your attention that you are the Dauphin of France? Every girl in this courtyard, in this town - no – in this _country_ would gladly do anything you asked. And their families would happily oblige you in it, too. You have the entire country at your feet! What girl could never be yours?" With this, Alexandre clapped Henri on the back, and walked off towards the palace steps. Feeling defeated, Henri slumped against the wall. Alexandre didn't understand. If Arielle were the Baroness' daughter and not the Baroness' servant, then the situation wouldn't be so troubling, and what Alexandre had said would probably come to pass.

A tinkling of laughter drew him away from his thoughts. Looking around at the courtiers milling about the courtyard, he spied Ellaina de la Rossieres and Giselle de Briathe smiling at a private joke they had just shared. Henri noted the ladies and compared them to Arielle. The girls' hair had been curled and braided by their maids that morning, and they wore their best gowns to be seen at court. Henri knew both of their fathers – both were wealthy lords and had sent their children away to be schooled in other countries. However attractive Arielle was she was surely no match for a cultured courtier.

* * *

"There!" Arielle smiled with satisfaction as she admired her wildflowers swaying gently within their glass bottle upon the windowsill. It was nice to have a little colour in the room, even if it was only the purple and yellow of the flower petals. She had the room all to herself, which was probably the only nice thing that her aunt had done for her since Arielle's arrival at the Chateau. Not that the room could hold much more than one bed. It was a pocket-sized corner of the building - the other rooms in the servant's quarters were big enough to sleep six. Everything in Arielle's room was the same dull beige shade. There was a sense of dreariness from the tone of the walls to the ratty blanket on her bed. Yes, the flowers would add some much-needed colour.

"The Baroness has returned from the party," a voice redirected Arielle's attention to Paulette, who was standing in the doorway.  
"Thankyou, Paulette," Arielle acknowledged, as Paulette joined her at the window.  
"Did you run into Prince Henri again today?" Arielle looked at her, confused as to where the blunt question had come from.  
"Yes - how did you know?"  
"I overheard Nicolette complaining about there being no point in going to the garden party, because the prince wasn't there. What do you think of him?"  
"What do _I_ think of him?" Arielle narrowed her eyes, knowing what Paulette was trying to get at. "What does it matter what I think of him?"  
"Well, for one thing, he's handsome –"  
"And haughty, and arrogant –"  
"You'd think just like Nicolette if –"  
"If my father was still alive?" The expression on Arielle's face must have been a harsh one indeed, as Paulette took a step back, and looked down, as if she had been scorned. An awkward silence prevailed, as Arielle went back to rearranging her flowers, angry with herself for getting so flustered over the situation, and at Paulette for provoking it. Luckily, the sound of horse hooves against the gravel driveway gave Arielle an excuse for escaping the room.  
"Look – a visitor," she glared at Paulette pointedly, "Perhaps we should be on hand in case the Baroness wants us to greet them."

But the Baroness was already there, opening the door herself when she glimpsed the insignis of the Royal family embroidered on the messenger's uniform.  
"Baroness d'Aurillac," the messenger spoke, "I have an announcement from His Majesty, the King of France."  
"An announcement from the King?" the Baroness repeated alluringly, "What about?"  
"About Prince Henri's engagement, Baroness," the messenger explained, proffering an envelope sealed with the Royal stamp. From her place in the doorway, Arielle saw the Baroness greedily snatch it from the messenger, all her hopes riding on its contents. 'A proposal of marriage from the Prince to Nicolette!' Arielle mused. At last she could see why, for the past three days, the prince had visited the chateau, or lurked around in the forest. He had been waiting to see Nicolette. Arielle smiled, all the tension she had just felt melting away. At least she hadn't made a complete mess of things in the forest this afternoon.

The Baroness, having her hands on the prize, closed the door on the messenger. Arielle followed as the Baroness, Nicolette and Adrienne sat themselves down in the sitting room, and waited as the Baroness broke the red seal and began to read:

"To the Baroness d'Aurillac and her daughters,  
The Royal family invites you to a ball in three weeks hence, in celebration of His Royal Highness, Prince Henri's, engagement to Princess Maria of Spain."

"What?" Nicolette screeched in disbelief, "When did this come about?"  
"I thought Prince Henri really liked you," Adrienne sympathised. Nicolette threw her a look of disgust. Arielle watched as the colour drained from her aunt's face, and saw as the Baroness attempted to concoct a plan to make everything all right. Having landed upon it, she rose to console her elder daughter: "Darling, there is still time to change his mind. Nothing is set in stone. And besides, if anyone can gain the affections of the prince, it's you."


	3. Chapter 2: The Unwanted Affection

**La Comtesse de Savigny**

**chapter two**

the unwanted affection

"That's what I want, Father," Henri stood defiantly in front of the King, who was seated on his throne in the throne room.  
"But I don't understand it," the King uttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "The Royal Guardsmen are there for your protection – for all of our protection!"  
"You're right, Father, you don't understand it," Henri answered back. "I need my freedom. I need to know that I'm capable of looking after myself. After all, how am I going to be able to manage a kingdom if I can't first manage myself?" Henri smiled to himself. It was a good approach, and Henri knew it, as he watched the old King mulled over the proposal, stroking his greying beard. After what seemed an eternity, he finally spoke. "All right, Henri. I suppose you can have your 'freedom', if it means that much to you."  
"Really? Thankyou!" Henri blurted out in spite of himself. He had never thought that his father would actually relent and dismiss the Royal Guardsmen from their duty of guarding him.  
"On a trial basis, however, until the ball," his father warned him. Henri didn't care. Trial basis or no trial basis, he still had what he wanted. Perhaps his father was beginning to believe that Henri could look after himself. Perhaps he was just in an especially good mood. Henri decided to take a chance.

'Seeing that he is in good spirits,' Henri mused. It couldn't hurt to try breaking the final obstacle on his journey to freedom. The announcement of marriage to Maria of Spain was not only unwelcome to Henri at this point in time, but it had also heightened the affections of the courtiers' daughters. Their behaviour was becoming even more violent, more urgent, with each possessing a need to capture his attention and keep it all to herself. He'd even seen good friends fall out with each other over the situation. He was practically betrothed! It surprised Henri how his admirers had taken no heed to the news of his impending wedding.

No. No wedding. He needed his father to call off all of the plans. He would not marry Maria; he would not even meet her. Neither did he want one of the adoring noblewomen to be his bride. He had spent time observing them over the last few days and had found little that gave them merit. If anyone was to sit beside him as his queen, he wanted Arielle. The wedding plans with Spain must be cancelled.

Henri took a step towards the King. "Father, I have one more favour to ask of you."  
"What is it?" the King responded grumpily. Henri watched as his father glanced from side to side. His mood was souring, and Henri could tell that he would much rather be outside walking in the gardens, and laughing and joking with the courtiers, than stuck in here having to make compromises with his son. He had better make this quick.  
"That you call off this marriage."  
"What?" his father stood up from his throne, eyes ablaze and face reddened with anger.  
"Or at least postpone it!" Henri quickly stepped back again, fearing his father's fury. The King paused, and with a glance to the windows lining the northern wall of the room, lowered himself to his seat.  
"All right, Henri," he reasoned. "You will not have to marry Maria if you do not want to." Henri felt himself fill up with joy and amazement at what his father had just said. However, the King had not finished speaking.  
"Henri," he recalled his son's attention, "Your stepmother doesn't believe you should marry the Spanish princess, in fact she does not believe you should marry at all. But I'll tell you this: either you propose to a noblewoman of your choice by the night of the ball, or you will ally yourself and France with Spain."

Henri stood aghast. He wanted to plead with his father, to beg him once and for all to stop all talk of marriages, but he couldn't find the right excuse to ease his father's mind with. What could he say? That he thought he was in love with a _servant_? Francois would die. Disown him. And Henri didn't want that. Despite all of their flaws, they were still family, and Henri wasn't ready to cut himself off from them. There was nothing to argue. Henri had three weeks until his fate would be sealed.

* * *

"Amen," Loretta joined in the chorus of voices as a prayer was finished. She was busily trying to think of a way to turn things around back to the d'Aurillac's favour. But how could you overturn a Royal decree? You couldn't. Not even she was capable of something like that. The Spanish princess would rule France, leaving Nicolette the Queen of Nothing. She looked over at Prince Henri, wondering whether he, too, was as unhappy with the King's decision as she was.

* * *

Henri had not been paying attention to the church service. Instead, he was trying once more to think of a solution to his father's edict that would allow him to keep seeing Arielle until he could bring his infatuation to some sort of close. He gazed up at the tapestries of the Catholic saints, searching for inspiration and guidance. His only idea was to pay visits to the Chateau d'Aurillac under the guise of courting Nicolette. Then he would still be able to see Arielle, without making obvious what his intentions really were, and his father would think he was keeping up the bargain of his marriage contract. He would make a further decision as to what to do when the three weeks drew to a close. Henri chided himself: such a manipulative idea should not have been spawned during Church. 

A crowd of girls were waiting outside for the chance to talk with him. Every Sunday they were the same: Giselle de Briathe, Ellaina de la Rossieres, Josephine d'Ives, Desiree de Ferrey. Making his way through the admirers he spied Nicolette d'Aurillac standing aloofly away from the rest of the pack. He may as well start his plan now, if only to endure the attention of one girl rather than twenty.

"Good morning, Baroness. Nicolette." Henri greeted them, hearing the murmur of complaints and disgruntlements as the rejected girls behind him dispersed.  
"Good morning, Your Highness," the Baroness and Nicolette responded in unison.  
"What did you think of the service?" Henri asked, at a loss for topics in conversation.  
"It was…quite lovely," Nicolette faltered in her reply. "It is a shame Adrienne couldn't come. She has a slight cold, you see, Your Highness."  
"Well, we must pray for her speedy recovery," Henri said, and Nicolette nodded in response.  
"She will be quite fine, Your Highness."  
Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Baroness scowling. Henri decided to steer the conversation back to subjects more favourable to her.  
"And what of your household, Baroness? Do your servants celebrate Mass as well?"  
"Most certainly, Your Highness. I would employ no heathens in my house. They have Sunday morning's rest to go to our local parish…"

* * *

Although he was riding at a full gallop, Henri willed his horse to go faster. He had already passed the Chateau d'Aurillac, and was just kilometres out of the town where the servants of the Baroness d'Aurillac went to church. _Where Arielle went to church_. He had to see her. He had to get to the church before their service was over. 

Upon reaching it, he tied up his horse and breathed a sigh of relief. He had made it – everyone was still inside the church. As quietly as he could, Henri entered the foyer of the church, and stopped as he saw Arielle kneeling at the front of the church as she received Holy Communion and her blessing from the priest. The priest noticed Henri standing in the doorway, as did Arielle as she rose to return to her seat.

As the priest dismissed his congregation, the church-goers began filing out of the building, bowing to Henri respectfully as they passed. Feeling compelled to enter the church now that so many knew he was there, Henri began walking up the aisle towards the priest, but stopped as Arielle passed him. He didn't know what he expected her to do, to talk with him, or say 'hello' or simply give a wave of acknowledgement, but instead she gave a quick curtsy to him as she went by just the same as the rest of her company did. As he stared after her, wishing there was something he could say or do that would inform her of his feelings towards her, the priest approached him and began to talk.

"Pious one, that girl. Always late to Mass, but pious nonetheless. She knows Latin, too. Sits there, translating my sermons to her companions. Imagine that! A servant who understands Latin!"

Henri looked at him with confusion, wondering why the priest was so eager in telling him about Arielle. Were his feelings that obvious? Was she taking pains to avoid him because she didn't feel the same way?

"I am deeply honoured with your presence here, Sire," the priest once again interrupted his thoughts. "Would you care to make a donation to our humble little church?" Unsure of what else he could do, Henri passed over a few coins, took his blessing from the priest, and then quickly left the quiet village.

* * *

Arielle looked around at the villagers as she began the ten kilometre walk back to the Chateau. There were women selling fresh bread they had baked in their wattle and daub huts to travellers, artists showing their works in the hope that some wealthy lord might purchase them, carpenters building a new bookcase for a customer, and children scurrying from person to person begging for a scrap of food, a sip of cider or a bronze coin. Arielle sighed. At least working for the Baroness meant that she could be certain of a roof over her head, and food for her to eat. At least she hadn't been turned out on to the streets and left to beg for her survival. 

At that instant, the sound of galloping hooves caused Paulette, who was walking alongside her, to pull her out of the way of a horse and its rider. As the horse continued galloping, forcing the servants walking ahead of them to part as it rode through, Arielle recognised the rider. It was Prince Henri, who had stared at her with his slate-coloured eyes as she had passed him on the way out of the church.

"My! He's in a hurry!" Paulette commented as they continued walking. "Don't look at them, my dear," she cautioned as she caught Arielle watching the men outside an alehouse, who had already been drinking despite it being the morning of the Sabbath. "The last thing we need is some old lecher after you."

Arielle's thoughts turned to Prince Henri. It was curious that he had come to that village, and for seemingly little reason.  
"Paulette," she asked, "Why do you suppose Prince Henri was in Church? Do you think he and Nicolette –"  
"Don't trouble yourself over the Prince and Nicolette," Paulette quietened her. "That day will come soon enough when those two are married."

* * *

'How many apples must they eat?' Arielle thought to herself, setting out once again into the apple orchard, basket in hand. It had not even been a week since the last time she had been sent to pick apples, since Prince Henri had made her late for preparing lunch, and yet she had been sent out once again. 

At least it got her out of the house. The Baroness, Nicolette and Adrienne had just returned from Church, and were discussing the possible measures they could make in order to unseat Princess Maria as the prince's fiancée. Arielle didn't want to listen to it.

A mixture of fruit and pine scent mingled around her as Arielle reached for ripe apples and placed them in her basket. After finding no more on the branches, she knelt down and searched the ground for fallen fruit. When she looked up, she saw Prince Henri watching her. She was not surprised. It seemed that she could not enter the forest any more without encountering him.

"Your Highness," Arielle addressed him, not bothering to bow before him – she was as close to the ground as she could be. When she looked up at him, he was holding a present out to her.

"These are for you," the prince said, with a look in his eyes that sent chills down Arielle's spine. She looked at the flowers he was holding with astonishment. They weren't the weedy wildflowers, marigolds and columbines that she had grown accustomed to seeing around the chateau, but proper garden flowers. Roses, lilies, carnations and violets – flowers which would have had gardeners to tend to them every day. What would her aunt say if she came home with those? She'd have to lie and say they were for Nicolette.

"Thankyou. They're…very nice," Arielle stammered, bewildered by the prince's behaviour. _He must surely be playing a prank on me to amuse himself_, she thought. For what other reason would he be bestowing gifts upon her, a mere servant?

Unable to do anything else, Arielle rose and accepted the flowers from the Prince. As she continued to look at the colours of the petals up close, she glimpsed the shape of the Prince coming towards her, and the next thing she knew the Prince had pressed his lips against hers in a tentative kiss. Arielle stood frozen to the spot, unable to move. She was shaken by this unexpected event, unsure of how she got there and of what she should do next.

Finally she was able to get her legs to move, as she stepped back from the Prince and broke off the kiss.  
"I'm falling in love with you, Arielle," Henri explained his actions. "I can't even speak your name without feeling a rush of excitement at seeing you again. Ever since dinner at the Chateau, where the Baroness was trying to impress Nicolette onto me, I could not keep my eyes off of you. It may be wrong and maybe nothing will come of it, but I know one thing now and that is that I need you."

How positively absurd! The Crown Prince of France, enamoured by a lowly servant? Did she like him too? Could she afford to even think that thought? Or was this truly a ruse to eradicate a young man's boredom? And even if she did like him, what would happen then? The King's decision to marry the Prince to the Princess of Spain would not change. And what if her aunt found out – her life would be a living hell. She couldn't do anything to upset the Baroness. The consequences would be too devastating.

"Surely you are confused!" Arielle tried to rationalise and reason with him. "What about Nicolette? Or your engagement to the Spanish princess?" Not waiting to hear an answer, Arielle glared at him, picked up her basket of apples, and stormed back towards the Chateau.

* * *

Arielle reached the door of the Chateau d'Aurillac, her body tense and her heart pounding as she tried to erase the events of that afternoon out of her head. When she happened upon Nicolette warming herself in front of the fireplace in the sitting room, Arielle remembered the flowers she was still holding and she gave them to her, saying that they were from the Prince. This sparked hope in the house that 'Prince Henri had finally come to his senses' and would indeed be breaking off his pending engagement to form a new one with Nicolette. 

After depositing the basket of apples in the kitchen, Arielle curled up on her bed, her head hidden under the blanket so as to block out the golden light of the early evening. She felt nauseous and her head throbbed as she wondered once again how she had found herself in the situation in the forest.

Drowsiness soon came. Paulette came looking for her, wondering why she had not completed her duties, and went to find people to do the tasks while Arielle succumbed to sleep.

When she awoke, she found Paulette sitting on the edge of her bed.  
"Morning, sleepyhead," Paulette greeted her. "Whatever did you get up to today that could have made you so tired?" Arielle glanced around the room and noticed that torches had been lit – it was past nightfall.  
"I don't feel well," she told Paulette, as a sick feeling still hung in her stomach and her throat. Paulette smiled reassuringly, and felt Arielle's forehead with the back of her hand to ascertain if she had a fever.

Before Paulette could say how sick Arielle was, the Baroness glided in to the cramped room and looked at Paulette to 'get out'. Arielle did not know what to make of her aunt's presence in the room, but didn't wonder about it – enough strange things had happened today.  
"How is she?" the Baroness called back to Paulette, who was hovering in the doorway.  
"It's nothing serious," Paulette answered. "A good night's sleep and she should be all right." Arielle watched the Baroness' face turn grey and cold. It was clear that the news was not what she wanted to hear.  
"If all she requires is a good night's sleep, then that is what she will have," the Baroness offered. "Just after you help at dinner," she redirected her attention to Arielle. "The Prince is to dine with us tonight, and I want everything to be perfect, like it was last time." This news shook Arielle. Prince Henri was the last person she wanted to see, and who knew what he would do when he saw her!  
"With us? You? Why?" Arielle babbled agitatedly.  
"Isn't it obvious?" The Baroness chided her, "He wants to see Nicolette again." Arielle collapsed back on her bed. She doubted that Nicolette was the reason why the Prince had accepted the dinner invitation.  
"But what if she carries contagion? The Prince could fall ill…" Paulette appealed to the Baroness.  
"If Arielle was contagious, Paulette, I wouldn't be here now," the Baroness remarked. "Now go to the kitchen, and make sure Arielle's up and ready by dinnertime!"

* * *

Arielle felt uncomfortable. Not only wasn't she well, but she was very aware of the Prince's eyes on her. The fact that he hadn't said anything about what he did that afternoon was annoying her even more than his staring. Surely he had noticed that the flowers that took pride of place in the centre of the dinner table were the very same he had given her? 

She longed for dinner to be over, so she could go and rest. Unfortunately, the meal had only just started. She carefully made her way around the table in an effort not to spill any soup from its bowl. However, Arielle's distaste and contempt for the actions of the Prince that afternoon showed when she set his dish down roughly in front of him. The liquid flowed violently in waves from one side of the bowl to the other, running over the rim.

Alas, this did not escape the attention of the Baroness.  
"Have you forgot yourself, girl? Apologise to the Prince at once!" the Baroness scolded her. Arielle didn't want to apologise to the Prince, neither did she care about the Royal protocol that bound her to be respectful towards him. She hoped, too, that her aunt would be lenient due to Arielle's ill health. After all, a splash of soup did not spell the end of the world.  
"Well?" the Baroness' beady eyes bore into her as she waited for Arielle to ask for forgiveness from the Prince. Feeling she could do little to fight back, Arielle obeyed.  
"Forgive me, Your Highness," Arielle bowed to him, feeling humiliated.  
"We'll talk about this later," the Baroness dismissed her from the room.

* * *

Once dinner had finished and Prince Henri had returned home, Arielle was able to retire to her room. As soon as she reached her bed she began to feel better. After the incident with the soup, dizziness had come over her, and all she had wanted was to escape the room so she could get over whatever was wrong with her and feel at ease with the world once more. 

"Arielle! Wake up!" Loretta's cantankerous voice demanded from the doorway of Arielle's room as she looked to Paulette to rouse the girl. Arielle, half asleep, allowed herself to be pulled out of her bed by her old governess, and outside of the Chateau into the cool night.

The Chateau d'Aurillac was bathed in the light of the full moon as Arielle was ushered across the courtyard, and towards the stabling area. Shadows made eerie shapes on the walls of the buildings, and mud from where dirty washing water had been thrown stuck to the soles of Arielle's bare feet.

By the time they reached the barn, Arielle was neither asleep nor sick. Instead, a feeling of dread pierced her heart, as she was led to a compartment in the barn where one of her father's old servants stood, holding a stockwhip in his hands. Arielle suddenly realised what was going on and backed away in fear. However, the Baroness was blocking her path.

She turned around to face the Baroness. "Please don't do this!" Arielle begged, tears threatening to fall, and her voice crackly as she pleaded with her aunt. "I promise it won't happen again!"  
"Yes, well we'll make sure it won't!" Loretta stated coldly, and Arielle bit her lip to try to prevent herself from crying.  
"My lady, please, let her alone!" Paulette interjected. "She's learnt her lesson. The prince didn't mind –"  
"The prince might not have minded, but I do!" the Baroness declared, her voice full of anger at her servants talking back to her. "Do it!" she commanded the manservant, who prepared to raise the whip and strike down. Arielle scrunched her eyes and gritted her teeth in anticipation of the shock and the pain, while holding onto Paulette as tightly as she could. The Baroness watched from outside of the doorway, an expression of satisfaction on her face.

"I can't," the manservant lowered the whip and turned to the Baroness.  
"You can't?" the Baroness mockingly echoed. "You most certainly _will_, else I'll see to it that you are not paid!" Arielle knew that the manservant had to comply. She would rather have the lash inflict a welt on her than know that she was responsible for the starvation of an entire family.

Arielle heard the whip come down with a 'crack', but was surprised when she did not feel any associated pain. The Baroness, too, had realised that the manservant was trying to spare Arielle, and she stepped into the room.

"Either you do your job properly, or your presence here will no longer be acceptable," the Baroness delivered the ultimatum. "Is that understood?" The manservant nodded, and Arielle steadied herself once more. She knew the manservant had no choice but to carry out the Baroness' wishes this time. If he did not go through with it and was fired, then word would spread that he was disloyal and disobedient to his superiors, and he would have little chance of finding work after that.

"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle," the manservant tried to apologise to Arielle, before bringing the whip into sharp contact with her back. She screamed out in pain as the leather lash was flung down upon her. "Again! Again!" she could hear the Baroness order in morbid delight as she witnessed Arielle's suffering. As hot tears streamed from her face, Arielle thought whether it was worth it, working for the Baroness, obeying her every order, when the first mistake she made she was severely beaten for. Maybe it was time she thought about leaving.

* * *

Loretta settled into bed, a smile on her lips as she began to drift off to sleep. She had never before had the premise to have one of her servants whipped for their insolence. Meals taken away, wages cut, yes. But physical punishment had never been called for. 

And now, Jacqueline's precious little Arielle had gone right ahead and was imprudent towards Prince Henri himself. If Loretta had not disciplined her for her reckless behaviour, then what would the Prince have thought? And hadn't it been invigorating to watch the pain on Arielle's face as each slash of the whip struck her! It would send a message to the rest of the servants. They would learn how they were supposed to act towards Prince Henri, all right. They would not shame Loretta again.

* * *

Henri strode the length of his chamber, pacing as he tried to work out how he could get through to Arielle. He felt defeated. He didn't know what he could say to her that would make her see how seriously he felt about her. She didn't hang off his every word, try to impress him with her wit, or 'Your Highness' him all of the time. But when he tried to make advances towards her, she'd run away, or more recently glare at him as if he was the most horrible person on the Earth. 

He'd give it one last try, he decided. One last try to prove to Arielle that he was genuinely interested in her. If she refused him again, then he'd take his father's offer, and give himself four more years of freedom until the Spanish princess grew up. But he had to try.

* * *

'Firewood, firewood, firewood,' Arielle thought to herself as she knelt down to pick some branches up, and snapped them in half so that they could fit under her arm. Her back ached with the welts the lashes had burned into her, and she could not move a muscle without remembering the pain inflicted on her the night before. As long as her aunt didn't expect her back until lunchtime, Arielle figured she could probably manage to bring the firewood she had collected back to the Chateau. 

Her 'aunt'. 'Well one thing's for certain,' she determined. 'I'm no Comtesse.' She looked at her hands in dismay. They were rough and scarred from a decade of cuts and scratches not properly attended to. The Baroness had never, in all of Arielle's years at the Chateau d'Aurillac, had any of the servants whipped. Why her? As family, the Baroness should have looked after her. 'My father would have done so if it was in reverse,' Arielle mused. Maybe her aunt had found out about what had happened between herself and Prince Henri the day before? But there'd been no one around, and neither she nor the Prince had told. There must be something else that she wasn't understanding, something that caused the Baroness to treat her worst out of all of the servants.

Arielle paused before collecting more firewood, hearing the snap of a twig and the crunch of dry leaves as someone approached her. Confident she knew exactly who it was, she carefully stood up.  
"Go away," she ordered as she came face to face with Prince Henri.  
"Arielle -"  
"Shouldn't you be looking for some princess to marry?" she glared at him, and then began hobbling in the direction of the Chateau. She could hear his footsteps as he hurried after her.  
"I came to apologise," he stepped in front of her and stopped her in her tracks. "I know that I've put you in an uncomfortable position more than once in the past few days."  
"Thankyou," Arielle replied dryly, slowly making her way around him. "Now that you've said that, could you _please_ leave me alone?"

"Arielle - your back," the Prince stated, as Arielle remembered the criss-crosses of blood that contrasted with the blue of her work dress. "Perhaps I could have someone look at that for you?"  
"I've already had help," she told him. "It's fine."  
"Did I do this? Did the Baroness d'Aurillac have you whipped because of what happened last night?"  
"It was deserved. I was out of line." Arielle stopped trying to walk away from him. It was obvious he would not stop following her until she had heard what he wanted to say.  
"You had every right to be. I compromised you and I should never have done so." Still confused by the familiarity with which the Prince spoke to her, she said nothing.  
"It's just hard for me to grasp - every girl in the country throwing herself down at my feet, except the one I want."

Arielle mentally rolled her eyes. Whatever the Prince wanted, she was certain that she was not it. She was not sure if she wanted to be it. She was uncomfortable with the disregard and the arrogant tone in which he talked to her. Matching it, she gave him a withering look. "You don't know what you want."

"Why is everything so hard with you?"  
"Why?" Arielle raised her eyebrows. "Did you ever stop and think, Your Highness, that I don't share your feelings?"  
"Well, do you?"  
"What is it that you want?" Arielle floundered as she attempted to make sense of the situation, and the tumult of emotion whirling around inside of her. "An escape from the Spanish princess?"  
"The engagement's been cancelled." Arielle paused for a second, wondering how the very thing that the Baroness had hoped for happened, before returning to the argument. She must make the Prince see reason and convince him that nothing could ever work between them.  
"It would never work. We live in two completely different worlds and-"  
"That doesn't answer my question."

Arielle carefully sat down on a fallen log. Having run out of things to say, she pondered her situation. The Prince of France liked her. Not as a servant and not for his mistress, but as his equal – as equal as they could be. Of course, the Baroness would have a fit if she found out, and Nicolette would be a wreck with the scandal.

But with the Prince on her side, Arielle surely would not be as vulnerable to their wrath. If everything continued smoothly, she might even be able to reclaim her father's house and title, as Paulette had so eagerly suggested. Her life of drudgery could become bright again.

Arielle turned to face Prince Henri, who was, by this time, also seated on the log. She wanted to tell him that she was willing, that she did return his affections, but was at a loss for words to convey it. However, Henri sensed her change of mind, and smiled before leaning in to kiss her.


	4. Chapter 3: The Love Affair

**chapter three**

the love affair

"Is the Baroness d'Aurillac in?" a royal messenger asked demandingly after Arielle had opened the Chateau d'Aurillac's front door.  
"My lady is in town, sir," she answered tiredly, exhausted from the morning's work. The Baroness, ever hopeful of Nicolette marrying into the Royal family, had insisted that the chateau be cleaned thoroughly twice a day, in case the prince should happen past. This meant longer hours and less breaks for all of the servants, who consequently grew evermore tired and therefore had to spend a greater amount of time ensuring that their work was up to the Baroness' high standard. As the messenger deliberated over what to say next, Arielle noticed Henri quietly leading his horse into the stables. For over a week he had visited her in the forest when chance allowed, but now that the Baroness had imposed her cleaning schedule Arielle had less time to escape the chateau, and so had asked Henri to meet her here. She smiled at the thought of him hiding in the stables, waiting for the messenger to leave.

"Well, then, if this could be delivered into the hands of the Baroness as soon as possible…" the messenger trailed off, giving the parchment to Arielle. Realising that she had been given it upside down, she turned the paper around so she could read it. His brow furrowed and a smirk on his face at the sight of a servant trying to read, the messenger climbed upon his horse and headed for the gateway.

After the messenger could no longer be seen, Henri rushed out from his hiding place. Upon reaching Arielle he tried to kiss her, but she was much more interested in the letter. "To the Baroness d'Aurillac and the ladies of the house," she read aloud, "His Majesty, King Francois I, wishes to advise of the cancellation of the marriage between His Royal Highness, Prince Henri, and the Princess Maria of Spain. The engagement to his new bride will be announced at the forthcoming ball." Arielle frowned. Nothing had changed. In two weeks time, Henri would still become engaged, and it wasn't likely to be to her. If she told him about her claim to nobility now, would he believe her? Or would it sound like she was making it up to fit with the contents of the letter?

"You can read?" Henri blurted out, disregarding the contents of the letter.  
"Of course I can read!" Arielle retorted. Why on earth wouldn't she be able to read?  
"It's just that, to the best of my knowledge…I thought all servants were illiterate," Henri tried to explain. Arielle froze. Now would be the ideal time to tell him about her father, but for some reason she didn't feel quite right about it.  
"Yes, well, you thought wrong, didn't you?" she corrected him instead, and reached for his hand.  
"Obviously," Henri remarked, and allowed himself to be led inside the Chateau.

* * *

"Paulette, a letter has arrived for the Baroness," Arielle dropped the parchment on a clear space while pulling Henri through the kitchen. Paulette looked up from kneading bread dough and at first seemed surprised to see Prince Henri in the room. This soon changed into a knowing look as she must have guessed at what had happened. Henri, too, had become uncomfortable in the situation. Arielle wondered whether anyone within his family had ever been in the downstairs of their castle. They should, she determined, if only to familiarise themselves with the conditions their servants worked in. After all, they were loyal subjects to the Crown, too.

"I'll see she gets it, mistress," Paulette acknowledged the letter, and nodded towards the door leading to the servant's quarters, indicating that Arielle could have some time off from the overly demanding schedule, if she wanted it.

"Come on!" Arielle grinned and, taking Paulette's suggestion, headed towards her room so that she and Henri could be afforded a little privacy. When they reached it, Arielle felt ashamed. She realised how bare it would look in comparison to the rooms of the palace, which surely were lined with thick fabric and glittering gold. Wildflowers that she had collected during recent visits in the forest with Henri sat wilted and withered on her windowsill, and along with the beige walls and draperies gave the room a great feeling of lifelessness.

"It's not much," Arielle admitted, worried about what Henri would think of it.  
"It doesn't matter," he reassured, clasping her hands and pulling her in for a kiss.  
"Your Highness! My lady!" Paulette burst in, interrupting them. "I can see the carriage coming up the road – they're returning early! Hurry – get away before the Baroness comes back!" she advised as she ushered them out of the servant's entrance of the Chateau. Trying to hide her laughter at the thrill of running from the Baroness, Arielle ran after Henri as he led her to his horse, mounted it, and then helped her up behind him. Just as the carriage came into view they rode away, hoping that the Baroness would not notice Arielle's disappearance.

* * *

"The engagement's cancelled?" Nicolette squealed with delight as Loretta finished reading the letter left for her. "That's perfect!"  
"Mother, whenever did this happen?" Adrienne asked incredulously.  
"God is smiling upon the Aurillacs, my daughters. Our prayers have been answered!" Loretta exclaimed, content that things were finally going her way. If she played her cards right, who knew what could happen? _Nicolette as Dauphine, that's what would happen. _She could then sell this place to some title-hungry bourgeois and move into the palace chambers. Adrienne would be quickly married off to some low-ranking Duke, and Loretta would finally have succeeded in bringing down Arielle, and with her, her mother, Jacqueline.

* * *

"I feel like I'm in a fairy-tale," Arielle commented as she and Henri sat atop a grassy hill and took in the view of the town and palace. At this moment in time everything was surreal. Here she was, a servant who should be back at the Chateau working, instead enjoying the scenery of the French countryside  
"Well, I must assure you this is very real," Henri replied, moving his gaze from the alluring view to look into Arielle's eyes. Arielle restlessly stood and walked over to where the hill slope gently rolled downwards. Wistfully, she looked back at Henri, who was lying casually on the grass, plucking the petals off of one of the daisies she had picked. A servant and a prince. She had to tell him.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," she addressed the valley before her.  
"What do you mean?"  
"_This_." She tugged at her skirts in irritation. "The Baroness, the work. The _secrecy_." Arielle walked back to Henri, and fell on her knees with a solemn look on her face.  
"Arielle –"  
"Henri, the Baroness has kept this a secret for too long."  
"What are you talking about? What secret?"  
"My mother died when I was born, and my father when I was seven." She paused as she watched Henri listening intently, with an expression of concern. It suddenly occurred to her how little direct attention she had been paid over the past ten years. Her father's ex-servants afforded her as much as they could, but besides them she had never been given the time of day. But now she had Henri, willing to listen, wanting her to continue. Arielle drew a deep breath, and divulged that which she had told no one before.  
"The Baroness was distressed about her brother's passing, but she didn't care for me. Instead of looking after me, she made me look after her."  
"Are you saying you're –"  
"The daughter of Comte Louis and Comtesse Jacqueline de Savigny," Arielle admitted. "Loretta d'Aurillac's niece."

Arielle watched in anticipation as Henri absorbed her news. She could see his mind working as he processed what she had said.  
"Then surely there must be no more secrecy!" Henri eventually concluded, half talking to himself. "My parents would let us marry – there could be no refusal!"

Relief washed through Arielle as tension she didn't even realise she had was released. She could escape this life of servitude and get away from the Baroness and her tough demands. She could marry Henri, in a clean gown made of yards of fabric, with jewels in her hair and surrounded by people who would tell her stories of her mother and father. Then she could live happily ever after with the man she loved and fix everything that the Baroness had made ill.

Suddenly, images of the Baroness flashed before her eyes, as her aunt tried every strategy she could think of to denounce Arielle and keep her apart from Prince Henri. She could hear Nicolette wailing about Arielle tricking the Prince away from her. She could feel the shock and consternation of the court as they discovered that Arielle was not well-bred, and had grown up in the manner of a servant. Who would let them marry if they truly gave it thought? Who would want them together? Who could say she wasn't trying to reach too high in pursuit of Henri?

"There is no proof," she shook her head sadly. "The Baroness will deny it."  
"The livres de raison!" Henri pushed, "It would be recorded. Weddings, births, deaths, all recorded."  
"It would look like I made it up. They could accuse me of witchcraft, of deceit, of treason, of anything."  
"If it is in the records, that you are who you say you are, then surely that will be all the proof necessary!" Henri reassured, wanting her to celebrate with him, not to be thrust into doubt.

"But –" Arielle began, knowing that there would be some loophole that could potentially bring this all crashing down around her, and break Henri in the process.  
"No," he silenced her. "Just say you'll come to the ball with me." Arielle smiled at his persistence. He sincerely wanted to make this work.  
"I have nothing to wear," she reminded him.  
"Don't concern yourself with that," Henri relegated, an idea beginning to form in his head. "We'll make some excuse to the Baroness – I can send for you to serve at the ball, for extra help. Then, once you are inside the palace grounds, we can dress you up and present you as the noblewoman you really are. We'll show everyone that the Comtesse de Savigny still exists."

* * *

Loretta d'Aurillac's niece? Henri couldn't ever remember anyone talking of a niece at court, although he knew that nobody talked about the de Savignys anymore because of what had befallen them, and their close ties to the King and Queen. But a daughter, forgotten in all of the mess and forced to leave all she knew behind to become a servant? Could it be true?

"How did she do it?" Henri had interrogated Arielle. "Why did you let her? I would have just run straight out of there and moved in with some old friend of the family."  
"I didn't ever really know any of Papa's friends," she had admitted. "I didn't even know the Baroness. I was just a scared little girl – I'd watched my father collapse, dead, in front of me and then I was sent to live with my aunt and cousins who I'd never met before." It must have been strange to have left everything she knew and adapt to a completely new life.

"Here it is!" Arielle exclaimed as Henri led his horse towards the rusted gates of the old chateau. Henri had asked about her life before she had been sent to the Aurillac household, and so she had told him what little she could remember: the Sunday walks by the stream, her father's laughter, and this, the comforting country house.

Henri surveyed the building. Vines snaked their way up its stone walls, and the garden that surrounded it was overgrown. Moss lived in the cracks in the bricks and pavers, and foreboding padlocks were present on both the front door and the entrance gates of the chateau.

"It needs some work done on it. I would have tried to do something, but the Baroness had it locked up. I haven't been inside it for years."  
"It would have made a perfect house for a courtier," Henri surmised, imagining himself riding through these gates, as he had so often done at the Aurillac's, and asking after Arielle and her father, the Comte de Savigny, instead of Nicolette and the Baroness d'Aurillac.  
"Would you still have thought the same of me if I had been a courtier when you met me? Along with all of those other girls vying for your hand? I would have meant nothing to you."  
"You'll never mean nothing to me."


	5. Chapter 4: The Masque Ball

**La Comtesse de Savigny**

**chapter four**

the masque ball

Henri eyed the uniformed men who were filing papers, recording events in ledgers, and going about their daily business. It had been two days since Arielle had told him about her claim to nobility, and yet he had only now mustered the courage to visit the Records Office. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to be there. If Arielle had lied to him, he didn't know what he would do.

"Your Highness," one of the workers noticed him and bowed, "How may I be of service?"  
"I am looking for a certain person's records. A courtier. Louis, the late Comte de Savigny. It is a request from my father."  
"Here it is," the man pulled open a yellowing ledger from a bookshelf where several other ledgers sat and began to read. "Louis Francois de Savigny, Comte. Born December 11, 1499. Died April 15, 1529. Married Jacqueline Gaussin. A daughter, Arielle Louise de Savigny, was born February 19, 1522…" Henri's ears pricked up as this fact was divulged.  
"That is all the information that is required," Henri informed the worker. His anxiety melted away as he realised that Arielle was telling the truth. It all fitted together - how she knew Latin, why she could read, why the servants addressed her so formally, why the Baroness had had her whipped for such a trifling situation. But for what reason could all of this been done? What did the Baroness have against her own niece?

* * *

Water sprayed everywhere as Arielle wrung out Nicolette's newly washed ball gown. There was an air of tension and excitement in the household, as Loretta helped Nicolette prepare for the ball. Nicolette's face and nails had to be cleaned; her shoes must be tried on and replaced with better ones. Her hair had been twisted into a thousand different hairstyles in an attempt to determine which one best suited the dress she was to wear. She had not been allowed outside for the past five days for fear that the sun would dry out her skin or cause it to redden with blotches. Her food intake was also carefully monitored to make sure she was not given too much to appear plump and over-indulgent, but also not too little that she would look thin and bony. Arielle sighed with contempt. All that effort for a one in a hundred chance at the crown. 

As Arielle hung the dress out to dry, she wondered about the ball. It would be held tomorrow night, and she had no idea of what to expect. Henri had mentioned little of his plan to her – simply that she would be sent for - but of how and when she had not been informed. Nor would she see Henri to ask him. He had taken his leave of her yesterday, after spending the last week and a half patiently instructing her in the ways of the court. She'd curtsied until her knees felt like they would no longer hold her; each time Henri had noticed something wrong with the manner in which she had performed it and would tell her to do it again. She'd been lectured on what to talk about, and how to address those of both a higher and lower station in life to her own. As much as he was unwilling to do so, Henri had also pointed out the difference in which servants and courtiers must act according to Royal protocol. And yet she had not thought to ask him about how she was to become the Comtesse de Savigny.

She must put her faith in Henri, Arielle determined as she returned inside the chateau. Everything would be all right.

* * *

Henri fingered the piece of parchment in his hands. He had taken pains to have it sealed properly so that no one would be able to read its contents until the time was right. That way, no one could meddle with his decision, and it would be Arielle's name his father would announce when the clock struck midnight tomorrow.  
"Here you are, Father," Henri greeted him after having conducted a search of the palace. The King had been hard to find. He was not in the throne room conducting business, or walking out in the gardens, or conversing with the courtiers in the courtyard. Instead, he was in a darkened hallway of the castle where Henri rarely went. It was in a part of the palace that his mother had often frequented, and Henri was surprised to see that the furniture and paintings she had chosen for it still adorned its walls. 

Henri could feel his father's annoyance at his intrusion into a private moment, and so he quickly held out the parchment to the King.  
"What's this?" Francois asked, taking it. "Is this it? Is this your choice?"  
"Yes, it is," Henri answered, watching the old man's face change from an expression of irritation to one of anticipation.  
"Well, out with it, boy! Who is she?"  
"She's the daughter of an old Comte," Henri replied, carefully trying to keep the mystery, so that the announcement would be a surprise to all present at the ball.  
"An old Comte? Let me see..." His father thought for a while, dreaming up possible matches between Henri and the noblemen's daughters. "Is it Giselle de Briathe? Or perhaps Vèritie de Larfeuille? Or that other girl – Emelie something…"  
"I want it to be a surprise. Promise me, father, that you won't lay eyes on her name until you announce it."  
"All right, I suppose," the King relented. "She is agreeable, though?"  
"Very agreeable. And very noble, too."

The King nodded, and then dismissed Henri with a wave of his hand. Henri walked out of the hallway happy. In two days time, his life would be all he had ever wanted it to be.

* * *

"Your Highness! How unexpected," Loretta greeted the prince, surreptitiously placing a hand on her head to ensure her hair was not out of place. She had been in the midst of readying herself for the ball – when Nicolette was chosen as Prince Henri's bride, it was only appropriate that Loretta, as Nicolette's mother, should look her best. "Shouldn't you be preparing for the ball?" she asked rather candidly, realising that the prince was still in his riding clothes, and the sun was preparing itself to set.  
"Yes, Baroness," he replied, "But I'm afraid we do not have enough servants for a celebration of such proportions. Could you spare some kitchen or some serving maids for the occasion?"  
"Of course, Your Highness," Loretta answered, delighted at the prospect of helping the Royal family. Her mind quickly flipped through the kitchen staff, and she grimaced inwardly as she saw only gangly servants. If her servants were to represent the Aurillac household at the ball, they, too, needed to look decent. She turned to speak to Prince Henri: "Our two ablest, Paulette and Arielle, will be available to your every beck and call."  
"Thankyou Baroness. Your help in this, I can assure you, will not be forgotten."  
"It is nothing, Your Highness," Loretta tried to charm him once last time, for Nicolette's sake. "I'll just go and get them for you." 

"Paulette! Arielle! Come here this instant!" Loretta ordered once she was out of Prince Henri's earshot.  
"Here, Madame," Paulette appeared from the kitchen.  
"Good. You are to…" Loretta trailed off, noticing she was without a servant. "Where's Arielle?" she questioned.  
"I believe she is helping Mademoiselle Nicolette prepare for tonight," Paulette answered. Loretta quickly turned on her heel and glided upstairs to Nicolette's room, while Paulette obediently followed in her wake. With the prince waiting outside, not a second must be lost. Now more than ever, time and shrewdness were of the essence.

Once Loretta had reached the upper landing, she elatedly opened the door in the hope of gaining attention without needing to speak. Nicolette and Arielle both turned to face her, Nicolette wearing her royal blue ball gown, Arielle dressed in her drab, dirty work clothes. Guilt hit Loretta as she contrasted the girls in front of her, both equal in status, but different due to circumstance. One with everything, the other with nothing. She quickly shook the thoughts out of her head. When Nicolette succeeded in becoming the heiress to the throne, Loretta's actions would be justified.

"Arielle, the prince is here demanding servants to help his own at the ball."  
"What? Now? Mother, she hasn't done my hair yet!" Nicolette screeched.  
"Oh, please be quiet, Nicolette!" Loretta reprimanded her eldest daughter. It was high time that Nicolette stopped her complaining and self-indulgence and be grateful for everything her mother had done for her and how close Nicolette was able to get to Prince Henri as a result. "Don't you see that Prince Henri called by personally? If _they_ act properly, it may ensure your chance of one day becoming Queen.  
"But why choose her?" Nicolette reached out an arm to gesture at Arielle and gave her a withering look. "She'll only ruin things for me. Look at her, she's in shock already. What help is she going to be when she's at the palace? In front of everyone?"  
"She won't be in the court, she'll be in the background," Loretta corrected Nicolette's ignorance, but also meant it as an admonition for her servants. She turned to them, and warned, "If anything goes wrong - one hiccup that sways the prince's eye from Nicolette, you will wish you had never left this house. Now go, and remember, nothing must go wrong!"

As Paulette grabbed a stunned Arielle by the hand and led her out of the room and Nicolette wailed about the half-done state of her hair, Loretta began to search for another servant to tend to the matter. As she watched Arielle climb into the bare wooden carriage, the sun began to sink in a pink-streaked sky. Night was falling.

Loretta smiled with amusement at the situation as she made last minute preparations to leave the Chateau. _So Jacqueline's brat was going to the ball after all. And in her proper place too – scrubbing dishes and mopping floors while Nicolette spends time with Prince Henri. _She smiled smugly. Ten years of hard work were about to come to fruition.

* * *

"Surely she suspects something, Paulette. That was too easy," Arielle said. She had just finished relating the events of the past few weeks to Paulette – of revealing her family history to Prince Henri, and his desire to present Arielle at the ball as his intended.  
"I doubt it, Paulette commented. "The Baroness truly believes that sending us as goodwill to the prince will make Nicolette his bride."  
"And she let me go without finishing her hair!" Arielle pointed out in disbelief.  
"Prince Henri was waiting outside," Paulette reminded her. "What else could the Baroness have done?" 

Arielle didn't reply. Instead, she looked out of the carriage widow and watched as green pine forests flashed by. She saw Henri ride past them up to the front of their entourage. Arielle wished that she could speak to him now to confide in him all of her fears and uncertainties about the ball and to have him assure her that everything would be all right. But she was not allowed contact with him, not even when she and Paulette would alight from the carriage and enter the palace, in case someone became suspicious and all of their plans were spoiled. It was not done, princes and servants conversing, Arielle reminded herself of the Royal protocol that she had so vigorously forgotten over the past three weeks.

"This can't be happening!" Arielle shifted her weight in order to sit up straighter as she turned back to Paulette. "Something is going to go wrong, I can feel it."  
"You've had a hard life, mistress, but Fate has dropped this opportunity into your lap! Think of what you could do: restore the Chateau de Savigny, bring the Baroness down to size. Create a fairer and nobler France."  
Arielle smiled in spite of herself. "How will I, of all people, do such things?"  
"With the prince by your side, my dear, you can do whatever you wish."

Paulette's last words remained with Arielle as outside of the carriage window the forest trees changed to orchards and the orchards changed to houses. It had not occurred to her how much influence she would have to wield when she and Henri married. What would she do with it? She was left to ponder that question as the carriage passed through the palace gates and headed for the servant's entrance of the grand palace of Fontainebleau.

* * *

As Henri reined in his horse to come to a standstill at the palace's servant's entrance, he took a deep breath and prayed that his plan would work. The Royal Guard, including Alexandre as their captain, had been alerted to the fact that a provincial Comtesse would be preparing for the ball inside the palace walls, and that two servants from the Baroness d'Aurillac's estate had been volunteered to act as her handmaidens. When Henri had initially told Alexandre of this, his friend had raised an eyebrow and given him a funny look, before smiling and clapping Henri on his back.  
"So you've rid yourself of whats-her-name, then?" Alexandre had jested. "That girl that could never be yours? Well come on, then, what's this mysterious Comtesse like?"  
"You'll see her when she gets here, my friend. You'll see her when she gets here." 

Henri watched as Arielle and Paulette stepped out of the carriage, both not exactly certain of what was to happen next. He called Alexandre to attention: "Captain Perrain, show them where they must go." As Henri watched them all enter the palace, he looked at Arielle. He had managed to get her inside Fontainebleau, but that was only half the challenge. The greatest challenge would be keeping her away from the Baroness, until their engagement was announced and his father informed of the manner in which Arielle had been treated at the Chateau d'Aurillac. Only then would Henri's mind be put at ease.

* * *

Arielle gingerly stepped over the threshold of the servant's entrance. She felt strange being in unfamiliar surroundings, like she and Paulette were intruders into the community of the palace servants. Paulette gave Arielle a nudge to continue following the Captain, who was waiting for them to catch up, with an impatient look upon his face. He obviously had better things to do than usher foreign servants about the place. Arielle quickened her pace. 

The servant's rooms and corridors alone astonished Arielle as she quickly hurried behind Captain Perrain. She had little time to observe them in their entirety, but flashes of them came to her as the trio passed them. There were large, comfortable beds with warm blankets placed on top of them, fireplaces aglow with flickering flame, an old rug here and there. As Arielle was led up a long staircase, the corridors changed from the modesty of servant's halls to the opulence of the Royal apartments themselves. Gold lined the edges of the doorways as they passed through them, and paintings hung wherever one looked. Even the ceilings of some of the rooms featured idyllic depictions of angels and cherubs floating in the sky. Chandeliers crowned with lit candles glistened every few steps to ensure that no part of the hallway be left in darkness. It was richer than all of the rooms within the Chateau d'Aurillac put together. It was richer than Arielle's memories of the prestigious Chateau de Savigny.

Finally, after what seemed an endless maze of hallways, Captain Perrain came to a stop, took out a ring of keys, and unlocked the door in front of which he was standing.  
"Here is the room," the Captain lectured. "You are here to help the Comtesse de Savigny get ready for the ball. She will be here soon. As she is a guest of His Highness, you are to pay her the utmost respect, and agree to any demand she may make. When you are finished, everything must be put back in an immaculate order, and only then will you be free to return to the Baroness. Understood?"  
"Yes, Sir," came the obedient reply and with a final glance at them, warning of thievery and its consequences, Captain Perrain left the wooden door open and disappeared down the long corridor.

Arielle entered the room, her eyes taking in all of its features. As she searched it mixed feelings of intense excitement and fear of being found out swirled around inside of her. The room was large, with tapestries woven with green and yellow thread showing scenes of the French countryside. The fresco on the ceiling was painted to match the landscapes, whose shades of colour complemented the long curtains that draped down each side of the windows that were in the room. Arielle moved over to the arched window and admired the courtyard and the extensive gardens that the palace boasted. Above that, she could see the forest begin to darken as the orange sun sank below the horizon.

Paulette distracted her from the enchanting view: "Oh, mistress, look! It's absolutely gorgeous!" Paulette picked up the delicate material from the four-poster bed as her eyes took in the shimmering fabric. The silver garment was covered in an array of blue and white beads, which caused it to glitter in the light from the fireplace. Arielle removed herself from the picturesque scenery outside of the window to examine the dress she was to wear to the ball.  
"Oh my gosh! It's beautiful!" Arielle felt the soft cloth between her fingers.  
"So you like it, then?"  
Arielle whirled around to find Henri shutting the door behind him. She ran up to him, full of wonder and bewilderment.  
"Henri, how did you know that it would work?"  
Henri smiled. "The Baroness is set about Nicolette's destiny, as most of the nobility are about their daughters. They all envisage their own as the next Princess of France and they will do anything if they think it will improve their chances. Most likely the Baroness noticed this as an opportunity."  
"Most likely, indeed! It is all they seem to talk about," Arielle agreed, thinking of the discussion that arose over the Spanish princess, the garden party, and the ball itself. _If anything goes wrong, you will wish you had never left this house!_ The Baroness' last words as Arielle had left for the ball came back to her, causing her worry to resurface. "The Baroness has threatened that if I spoil Nicolette's chances by being here, my life will be unbearable."  
"I will never allow that to happen to you. I love you." Though Arielle smiled at Henri's words and his confident tone, she wasn't sure if she completely believed him. Surely even Henri wasn't that invincible, when pitted against the mind of Loretta d'Aurillac…

"Excuse me, Sire," Paulette addressed Henri after a time, "But may I ask what I'm to do here?"  
"You, Paulette, will help Arielle get ready."  
"I can dress myself, you know," Arielle retorted.  
"And do your hair, and paint your face?" Henri asked, his expression one of earnest. Arielle stood taken aback at the thought. "I've never worn make-up in my life!" she said aloud. She realised that there were a great many things that Henri had not had the time to or perhaps simply could not teach her.

As Arielle contemplated what becoming the 'Comtesse de Savigny' actually meant, she heard Paulette in the background:  
"Why me, Sire? Surely someone else in the palace is more qualified?"  
"You served the Comtesse de Savigny – Arielle's mother – did you not? You were her lady's maid."  
"Aye, sir, before she died."  
"Then you are most surely overqualified," Henri pronounced, before focusing his attention back on Arielle. "I have heard my stepmother, and my mother before her, speak often about Jacqueline de Savigny and how she was one of the most beautiful and accomplished noblewomen at court. Now I see where you get it from."  
"I wish I knew her," Arielle sighed, knowing that her life would have been better if her parents had remained alive. She wouldn't have to go to the ball under a veil of stealth, deceit and trickery, but would be presented with her father to the whole court, properly and legitimately.  
"Come, come child!" Paulette snapped her back into reality. "If His Highness will excuse us, we must get you ready for the ball."

* * *

"I do not look myself at all," Arielle stared into the mirror, shocked at her own transformation. After an hour spent soaking in rose-scented water, stepping into the glorious dress, having her hair twisted up, having makeup dabbed on her face and being adorned with jewellery, she was finally ready for the ball. Streaks of dirt had disappeared from her skin, her hair was blonder than she had ever remembered it, and her dress was the finest thing she had ever worn. Paulette circled her, adjusting a necklace here, straightening the seam of the gown there, and ensuring that nothing was out of place. She, like Prince Henri, wanted Arielle to be restored to her rightful place in life. "You look just like your mother," she commented, her voice becoming choked up, and her eyes glistening with tears that Arielle knew were of happiness and pride. 

Arielle began checking herself over, and running through her mind everything that Henri had taught her about being a Comtesse. "I'm getting nervous," she confided in Paulette, glad that she was there to see her through this.  
"There's nothing to worry about. The Captain will meet us here presently, and he shall guide you directly to the prince." Arielle's breathing had quickened, and her muscles began to tense up. She could feel beads of perspiration forming at her temples, threatening to cascade down and cause her make-up to run.  
"Everything will be all right. Trust in your own good judgement," Paulette tried to calm and comfort her.  
"But my judgement tells me that something catastrophic is going to happen."  
"Then trust in mine." Arielle smiled and reached out to hug Paulette. "Thankyou for everything, Paulette."

At that moment, a sharp knock sounded from the other side of the closed door. "Comtesse?" Captain Perrain's voice could be heard. "It's Alexandre Perrain, the Captain of the Royal Guard."  
"Uh, come in, Captain," Arielle offered, lowering her voice in her best attempt to sound noble. The door opened, revealing the Captain dressed in his regulation uniform. It took him a while to realise that one of the servants he had escorted inside was absent from the room.  
"Where is the other one?" he addressed the question to Paulette, who was standing behind Arielle, simply flabbergasted, and not knowing what to say in return. Arielle looked back at her and then to the Captain, her mind working as she thought of an appropriate excuse.  
"She was needed in the kitchen," Arielle said plainly, smiling at the man in the hope that he would not take the issue further.  
"I hope it was of little inconvenience to you, Comtesse," he apologised, and then offered her his arm to lead her out into the hallway and to the ball. "Shall we?" Arielle took it, breathed deeply, held her head high and began to walk dignifiedly out of the room.

* * *

The strains of the orchestral band reached Arielle's ears as they neared the ball, filling her with excitement and anticipation of the night to come. Hallway after hallway that they passed through had portraits of various lords and ladies, landscapes of the countryside, and paintings of important events adorning its walls. She longed to pause at each one and ask about their stories, about who those people were and the lives they had led. But there would be time for that later. 

Later. Later when the world would know who she was and what her aunt had done to her. What would the Baroness do after it was revealed that it was Arielle, and not Nicolette, who was engaged to Prince Henri? Arielle cleared her mind of it – she could only hope that Henri would protect her from anything the Baroness might try.

"Prince Henri, may I present the Comtesse Arielle de Savigny?" the Captain's voice interrupted her thoughts as he led her to a balcony where Henri was waiting. The sun had long since set, and the excited apprehension from the revellers down below filled Arielle with joy, casting all doubt away. Henri turned from where he was standing to nod appreciatively at her.  
"You may," he accepted Alexandre's proposal, not taking his eyes off Arielle. Arielle could feel shivers running down her spine as her own eyes met with the intensity of Henri's gaze.  
"Your Highness," Arielle descended into an elegant curtsy, as Henri had taught her, before offering him her hand.  
"Comtesse," Henri carefully took her hand and gently touched his lips to Arielle's skin: the conclusion of a series of well-practiced moves endeavouring to throw Alexandre off the idea that any intimacy had previously passed between them.  
"Thankyou Captain Perrain. That will be all," Alexandre bowed and returned to his post, leaving Henri and Arielle alone.

* * *

"Who is that on the balcony with the Prince?" Nicolette asked, as she was jostled by some people trying to get past her.  
"Can't tell," Loretta replied, peering in the direction that her daughter had pointed. She could make out Prince Henri clearly enough, but the girl who was with him had her back turned to them. "Can't see her face."  
"What an exquisite dress!" Jacqueline exclaimed, her attention also alerted to the balcony. "Have you ever seen a dress like that?"  
"Mother, why didn't I wear a beaded dress, instead of this horrible thing?"  
"She looks like a princess!"  
"Whose side are you on, Adrienne? What about me?"  
"It's just an expression, Nicolette!"

Loretta sighed audibly. All three of them were guests at a Royal ball. They should be enjoying themselves, or at least be keeping a closer watch on Prince Henri, not squabbling over Nicolette's wardrobe and Adrienne's allegiance.  
"Princess or no princess, you have something better than her, Nicolette. You look like a Queen, and it is a future queen that the King will want his son to marry. Besides, I'm sure Prince Henri is simply being polite. He'd be obliged to speak to everyone, wouldn't he?" Loretta looked upward once more. She'd have to make sure that from this instant onwards that Nicolette would be the only girl Prince Henri would spend time with at the ball. She could not afford otherwise.

* * *

"Have you seen them?" Arielle questioned Henri, her thoughts returning to Nicolette's unfinished hair.  
"Seen who?" Henri pretended, knowing well who she meant.  
"The Baroness!" she emphasised. "Nicolette and Adrienne!"  
"Yes, I believe they've gone to scope out 'the competition'. I had to excuse myself from them when they first arrived," he informed her, and then stopped to stare at her again. "You look ravishing, do you know that?" 

Arielle smiled at his compliment before looking down upon the colourful courtiers, dancing in circles beneath the balcony. The darkness of the night sky constrasted starkly with the bright light given off by the torches that lit the courtyard, as well as the flashes of colour as fireworks burst over the party. She was mesmerised by it all – the whole experience was something she had never before seen. She smiled to herself as she thought of how much the hopeful girls below would envy her: the Comtesse, Prince Henri's partner for the night.

Suddenly, her eyes rested on Nicolette, who was looking eagerly for another glimpse of the prince. Arielle quickly stepped away from the edge of the balcony so that she could not be recognised by her conceited cousin. '_How their blood will boil when they discover who the Comtesse is._' Arielle shuddered. A sudden coldness passed through her as she again felt the definite sensation that something would go wrong.

"Shall we go down to the party, Your Highness?" she addressed him formally, cautious of the Royal Guardsmen parading the corridor behind them.  
"But the Baroness!" Henri protested, hushing his voice.  
"Surely I have less chance of seeing her when I am surrounded by people, than when I am up here by myself for all the world to see.  
"I simply thought that you would be safer up here – instead of down there having to socialise…"  
"I think I can manage," she replied. "I'm going to have to soon, aren't I?" Henri seemed to be vacillating, not knowing whether to stay and be alone with Arielle, or face the crowd of people below. Arielle made his decision for him.  
"Come on, let's go and enjoy ourselves!" Arielle's eyes gleamed with happiness as she led Henri down the corridor towards the courtyard.

* * *

"Mademoiselle, may I have this dance?" a young nobleman asked Arielle as she made her way across the courtyard. Henri, who had been walking in front of her, turned around to view Arielle's response, a mixture of concern and amusement on his face as he wondered if he should step in and save her the trouble of dancing.  
"Why, of course, Monsieur," Arielle performed a short curtsy and then allowed herself to be led on to the dance floor, giving Henri a knowing look as she caught his glance. 

"Oh, Your Highness! We were afraid we had lost you," the Baroness Loretta glided up to him, pulling Nicolette and Adrienne along with her.  
"Here I am," Henri said in a depressed tone, annoyed at both the insistence of the Baroness and the disappearance of Arielle. When he turned around, he discovered that he had been cornered in front of a pillar.  
"Are you looking for someone, Your Highness?"  
"No…no," Henri stopped searching for Arielle, and focused unwillingly on the Baroness.  
"Mother, look at that lady dancing over there," Adrienne pointed out. "Look at the way she dances."  
"It's Adrienne's princess," Nicolette sneered.  
"Her what?" Henri asked, concerned at how close they were getting to the truth. The Baroness, however, seemed to have other thoughts on her mind.  
"Adrienne, darling? Why don't you go and enjoy yourself? We have to talk with the Prince." As Henri watched Adrienne scuttle off in the direction of the dance floor, he noticed something strange. Did he spy a glance of pity in her eyes as she passed him? He had thought that both of the Aurillac sisters were as bad as each other, and that they had enjoyed following after him at the insistence of their mother, causing him to be uncomfortable in their presence until he thought of a way to exit from their company. Maybe the younger sister detested it as much as he did. As he refocused his attention, he saw that Nicolette had begun batting her eyelashes and smiling sweetly at him, while the Baroness launched into a spiel about the merits of those of the Aurillac name. Henri raised his eyes to the heavens. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Trumpets sounded out the Royal Salute as the music from the orchestra died down. Thanking her partner for the dance, Arielle pushed her way through the crowd, trying to find Henri. She sneaked behind the Baroness and Nicolette, who were busy congratulating themselves, as if the engagement had already been announced in favour of the Aurillacs. They made her ill – their main goal was to be part of the Royal family – they had no care to find out what the Prince was like at all. 'Except for a few dinner parties,' she admitted, where all they seemed to do was point ridicule at her. 

But wasn't that what she was doing? Marrying Henri would get her into the Royal family. However, unlike Nicolette, it was not her only aim. A smile came to her face as Arielle remembered how she had originally found Henri to be – haughty and insolent when he assumed that she would feel privileged to have a prince show affection towards her. No, she was nothing like Nicolette.

She found Henri at last, hiding in a corner of the courtyard. He grasped her hand, squeezing it in a final attempt to assure her that all would go well.  
"You never told me you knew how to dance," Henri leaned in to her and whispered.  
"You never asked," Arielle replied and prepared herself. She could feel butterflies in her stomach. The ends of her fingers begin to tingle and she found herself holding Henri's hand tighter as she waited for her name to be announced. The moment she had heard talked about for the past three weeks was finally here.

* * *

Francois stood upon the dais, looking out at the crowd before him. He nervously fingered the parchment that Henri had given him, curling one of the corners over in an attempt to remain calm. He wasn't sure who's name he would be reading out. He had tossed several over in his head last night, but couldn't come up with a concrete name. It could be any of several courtiers' daughters. It could even be that Baroness' daughter, that Nicolette d'Aurillac, for God knew that Henri had been spending a lot of time visiting there. Francois could only hope that Henri had made the right choice, the _responsible_ choice, and marry the woman who would best support him when he reigned as France's King. 

A subtle cough from Elenore, seated behind him, reminded Francois of the hundreds of expectant faces before him, waiting for his announcement. Clearing his throat, he began to speak: "My loyal friends, it is my great pleasure tonight to announce the engagement of my son, Prince Henri, to…"

There was a slight pause as Francois broke the seal of the parchment he held. He could feel the guests before them holding their breath. "Arielle, the Comtesse de Savigny," Francois read out, his voice ringing throughout the courtyard as a silence hung over the courtiers. Hearing his own voice speaking the name, Francois frowned, and felt his skin grow hot with embarrassment from the mistake his son had made. Henri couldn't possibly be getting married to Francois' late friend's daughter. How could he, when Arielle de Savigny was dead?


	6. Chapter 5: Criminal Comtesse

**La Comtesse de Savigny**

**chapter five**

criminal comtesse

Henri led Arielle towards the dais where his father and stepmother were waiting. He could feel the gaze of every eye in the room planted upon him, and could hear a low hum nestle itself among the crowd – murmurs of surprise and comment upon his beautiful fiancée, no doubt. A sharp jab of pain emanated from his hand as Arielle tightened her grip on it. He gritted his teeth, feeling them grind together as he waited for the pain to subside. Once it had dissipated, he looked over at Arielle. "It's all right," he tried to dispel the nervous look on her face, to undo her frown and clenched jaw and make this moment as happy for her as it was for him. It would be the first time the people saw their future crown princess, their future queen, and he wanted Arielle to make a good impression on them. He wanted them to be as proud of her as he was.

They had almost reached his father, when Henri glanced around to find the Baroness d'Aurillac. He couldn't help himself. He wanted to see the expression on her face, the expression of shock, of astonishment, of incredulity, that he and Arielle had achieved all of this right under her nose and she hadn't suspected a thing. Of the horror, that she had not succeeded in her pursuit of the throne for Nicolette's sake. Instead, when his eyes locked with the Baroness', he felt as though her small black irises were driving icicles through his body. She gave him a serene smile, but there was something about it, something so out of character that it made his spine prickle with anxiety. And then, she made her move.

Pushing aside Nicolette with such force that the girl had to grasp for her sister's shoulder in order to steady herself, the Baroness made her own way to the dais, barging through the courtiers. The guards lining the edges of the courtyard made a move to stop her, but the King raised his hand and they returned to their posts, allowing the Baroness to march right up to Henri and Arielle. As she came towards them, Henri could clearly see the expression on her face. It was one of anger, of jealousy and of betrayal. He had the urge to take Arielle and flee the courtyard, to protect them both from whatever the Baroness was going to do next. The pain in his hand intensified; if he was this fearful, he could only imagine what Arielle must be feeling.

"How dare you!" Spit hit Henri's face as the Baroness descended upon Arielle. "How dare you impose on my poor niece's memory!" What game was the Baroness trying to play now? Her niece's _memory_? He could feel his arm being pulled slightly, as Arielle shrank back behind him, trying to put a blockade between herself and the monstrous creature that the Baroness d'Aurillac had become.

"Your Majesties, this is no Comtesse," she addressed the King and Queen, both of whom had not moved from their positions on the dais. Why didn't they come to his aid? Why had his father stopped the soldiers and prevented the Baroness from making a fool of herself in front of the entire court? The Baroness continued: "She's not even a courtier. In fact, she's been a servant in my home for ten years."

"That's not true!" Henri retorted, before realising that what she had said was partly accurate. She had made Arielle work for her for that time. The Baroness, who flashed her steel gaze from the King to start in on Henri, did not ignore his protest.

"Really, Your Highness? What lies has she been spinning you? Having the Comte de Savigny for a father? His chateau and lands as her birthright?"

"You're lying!" It was all he could do not to tackle the Baroness to the ground, right there and then, to silence her from accusing Arielle further and destroying what should have been one of the happiest moments of his life.

"Henri! Be mindful to whom you are speaking!" the King called out.

Henri turned to his father for one last plea.  
"You said I could marry for love and not for country, as long as I announced it tonight. Comtesse or no Comtesse, I have made my decision!"

"Henri, come inside." As whispers of scandal and intrigue erupted from the gathering of courtiers, Henri angrily stormed out of the courtyard, Arielle barely keeping up with him. As he rounded the corner and waited for his father to join him, he tried desperately to think of how to defend Arielle against the Baroness' indictments.

Henri followed his father into the closest room to the courtyard: Francois' study. He could hear the clacking of Arielle's shoes on the flagstones as she hurried along behind him. After Elenore entered the room, the guard who had let them in bowed, and silently closed the door, shutting the four of them inside.

The King strode to the middle of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, and stood facing the large tapestry. It depicted a falcon hunt, with the hounds sniffing out the game and the falcons preying upon the woodland rabbits, and the men following behind on horseback, toting their guns. Francois took a few steps forward, and then paused again, before finally turning around to face the people in the room. His face was flushed with what Henri could only presume was anger, and his hands formed fists.

"Henri, you may want to marry for love but I as King and furthermore your father have the final word on who my son, my _heir_, shares his reign with. This girl, whatever her name is, is not suitable. Not only is she guilty of treachery and deceit, she is a commoner! How would that look to the Court of Spain?"

"Who cares about the Court of Spain?" Henri retaliated. "And why believe the Baroness d'Aurillac? She is the one with everything to gain! She so obviously pushes Nicolette into my face with every intention of me marrying her!"

"Henri, Henri," Francois chided. "You poor disillusioned boy. She only has your best interests at heart. Imagine if we let someone like her into the palace, with all of the gold and jewels and finery. Our good name would be ruined, which is exactly why yours should be a marriage of state!" Henri watched as his father put a hand to his forehead and wiped the sweat from it, before pacing the room. "As for Arielle, the Comte de Savigny's daughter, she died, a while ago, before the Spanish war. And even if by some miracle that was her," he gestured behind Henri, where Arielle was still clinging on to his hand, "shouldn't the Baroness be just as happy for Nicolette, her daughter, or Arielle, her niece, if either one became your wife?"

"No." Henri shook his head in disbelief. The Comte de Savigny's daughter dead? How ludicrous! She was standing behind him, as clear as day. And had his father not met the Baroness before? Henri had known within the first ten minutes of their meeting that the Baroness wouldn't be happy for Henri's bride to be anyone but Nicolette. Couldn't the King see through her? "There's something else. I won't accept it."

"Accept it you must!" Francois barked, before throwing opening the door and calling out to the men in the passage: "Guards, take her away."

Henri gripped Arielle's arm even more tightly and pulled her behind him to protect her from the guardsmen. However, there were too many for Henri to hold out all on his own. They wrestled him to the ground, breaking the grip he had on Arielle in the process. As she was dragged off in the direction of the dungeons, struggling against and kicking out at the guards, he stared after her.  
"Forgive me, Arielle. Forgive me," he repeated. He wanted so much to do something more, but felt powerless. Nothing he could do or say, it seemed, could save her now.

* * *

Henri lay on his bed, staring out of the window at the blackened sky. He had lost everything. The Royal Guard had been called back to attend to him, his father was threatening to resume talks with Spain about the engagement, and Arielle, the one person who had made him feel truly alive, was gone from him forever.

He had brought it all on himself. If only he hadn't been in such a rush that day at the Records Office. He had been so overjoyed and elated that Arielle fit the mould that his father had provided for him, that he had cut the Records Officer off before he had a chance to finish reading the rest of the entry. He hadn't listened. He had let himself be impetuous, and it had cost him dearly. Who knew what he might have done if he had heard the whole of the record?

The door creaked open, and Henri turned to glare at the intruder. Seeing Paulette standing there, he motioned for her to come in as he sat up straight.

"Your Highness," she addressed him, "I did not know what I was supposed to do with this." She held out a bundle, which Henri took and proceeded to open.

"It's her clothes. I heard what happened."  
"This was a mistake. It was all a mistake. I should never have brought her here," he bluntly confessed. Realising the time, and Paulette's presence in the palace, he organised a carriage to take her back to the Chateau d'Aurillac, and then retired to his bed, clutching Arielle's clothes and crying for all he had lost.

* * *

Arielle lay slumped against the hard bars of the prison cell. Her hair, once neatly pulled up for the dance where all of her dreams were to come true, now fell in wisps around her face. The beautiful beaded dress had not been taken off of her when the guards had so violently thrown her in the dungeon, and the once-white fabric had been discoloured with dirt. Arielle examined her hands in the darkness, imprinted with thousands of little lines from where the beading had impressed itself onto her skin. A draft of cold air made her shiver, and she slid her feet under her dress to keep them warm – her slippers had slid off of her feet when she was dragged to the dungeons.

She tried to stay positive, to think that the King may have made a mistake, or that she could work out a way to get out of her prison cell, or even that Henri would defy his father and come to her rescue. She traced patterns in the dirt floor, representations of chateaux and rivers and the families who lived by them, feeling the fine grains rub against her skin and wedge themselves up behind her fingernails.

The wind outside grew stronger, moaning as it blasted its way through the dungeons and pricked Arielle's skin with its chill. At least the wail of the wind drowned out that of the other inmates, who had spent the last few hours choking and spluttering their way off into restless sleep. Struggling to find any position leaning against the wall of the cell that she could bear well enough to be able to sleep herself, she curled up on the floor, forming a pillow for her head with her hands.

As she lay there, frozen with cold and helpless to do anything about it, she willed herself not to cry. However, the dark thoughts invaded her mind, clouding the positivism she had tried so hard to establish before. As she closed her eyes, she could see the form of a large man, covered head-to-toe in black, with the only slits in his clothing displaying his impassive eyes and thin, cruel mouth. She opened her eyes again, but the image of the executioner still hung in the blackness of the dungeons.

She gave up the fight, allowing the torrent of negativity to overwhelm her. _I shall surely be hanged_._ Treason to the Crown. Or perhaps the Baroness will paint me as a witch or a religious fanatic and they shall burn me at the stake_. Arielle wiped the traces of tears away from her cheek, feeling the roughness of the dirt left behind in their stead. _It was wrong of me to even think I had a chance of escape_. The regulations of the Chateau d'Aurillac and the restricted life she had once led seemed a memory as welcome as those of her father compared with the future Arielle could see for herself. However, she had wanted to get away from the Baroness, and now, she thought wryly, she had done it. The fact of her death would become reality, she would die, and the Baroness could continue wooing Henri for a son-in-law. Arielle had never wanted to be back within the Chateau d'Aurillac more in her life.

* * *

"The absolute nerve!" Nicolette complained the next morning at the breakfast table. "We send her off _expecting_ her to represent us and behave and what does she do? She stabs us in the back!"

Loretta sighed, picked up her spoon, and began tapping the top of her boiled egg in preparation for eating. With each tap the force became stronger, until she had to quickly reach out and right the eggcup before it toppled over and broke. How had it happened? How had Jacqueline's little brat ended up being the one announced, after everything she had done to prevent it? It was a crack in the plan – one that she had no way anticipated, but one that was, fortunately, resolved when the guards closed the cell door and caged Arielle inside.

"Pretending to be a Comtesse. How positively absurd!" Nicolette continued, stuffing a piece of bread in her mouth as she relished the end of her pre-ball diet.

"Yes. It's just as well that she's safely locked away in the palace dungeons. In a matter of days, I'm sure, the King will order her shipment to the Americas and the Prince will forget all about the 'Comtesse de Savigny'," Loretta assured herself as much as Nicolette. She glanced at her daughters, who were pleasantly oblivious to their mother's lies, their minds purely engulfed with the scandal that had occurred the night before. "Comtesse indeed!" Loretta stated, trying to erase the happenings of the previous day out of her head as she ate another spoonful of boiled egg.

"I did so like her dress, though," Adrienne mused after silence had fallen upon the table. "Where ever do you suppose she got it from?"

"It's most probably one of mine," Nicolette said disdainfully, picking up her fork examining it and placing it back down again. "Arielle always did look up to me, the pathetic little thief."

Adrienne shook her head.  
"No, she wasn't wearing one of your dresses, Nicolette. Her dress was all white with blue beading on the bodice and arms. Remember? You don't have anything like that." Adrienne took a measured sip from her cup, her eyes studying Nicolette in search of a reaction from her sister. "And she didn't take anything with her from here last night."  
"Which means she must have taken it from the palace, doesn't it?" Loretta interjected, the talk of Arielle finally getting to her and corroding her cool composure on the subject. "Which is ten times as worse. Now let's leave the subject alone. We're rid of Arielle, she's no longer our concern."

* * *

The rays of sunshine barely made it down the long hallway to Arielle's prison cell, keeping her shrouded in darkness. She felt completely isolated from the world, which she found to be a strange thought, considering the many other prisoners whose cries she could hear as she tried to gain any sleep in the cold night. Sometimes, if she were lucky, she could hear the far-away voices of the two Royal Guardsmen who manned the entrance to the dungeon echo along the corridor to her. The dungeons hadn't received any visitors since Arielle had been imprisoned within it, and Jacques and Edmond had little to amuse themselves with except idle chatter. Jacques liked to boast about his physical prowess and the way his menacing gaze would frighten even the most hardened prisoner into submitting to his orders, whilst Edmond concentrated more on keeping the dungeon records accurate.

Arielle could hear them now, if she concentrated hard enough on picking out their voices amongst the every day background noises of the prison. They were talking about Edmond's upcoming wedding to his fiancée, Emelie. Jacques was congratulating his colleague on what a fine woman he was to have for a wife, whilst Edmond encouraged him in his compliments, the sound of his tone giving away the happiness he must have been feeling. Arielle leaned back, her bones now used to the hardness of the cell walls, imagining Edmond and Emelie's wedding, at a little parish church full of friends and family who loved them dearly. She would glide up the aisle in a simple but nevertheless elegant gown towards her husband-to-be, dressed in his regimentals, and in front of the congregation they would become man and wife. Then, she saw the modest interior of the church transform into that of a great cathedral. The nobility sauntered in, taking their front row pews and smiling gaily, dressed in their fine silks and velvets, as they celebrated the marriage of the bride and bridegroom, no longer Edmond and Emelie, but – Arielle felt her heart skip a beat – Henri…and who was that behind the veil? _Nicolette_?

The sour taste of bile oozed up out of her oesophagus as Arielle lunged for a corner in which to throw up the slim contents of her last meal. The stench of vomit made her retch again, but she had nothing left to expel. Scrunching up her eyes, she breathed deeply to stifle the sobs that were rising out of her. _You're just imagining things_. Yes, her mind was playing tricks on her. Henri wouldn't marry Nicolette. How could he when he loved Arielle? Surely he wouldn't believe those slanders the Baroness had spouted…

Jacques and Edmond's voices floated down to her again, and Arielle shook her head to clear out her thoughts and refocus her concentration on the ramblings of the prison guards. Arielle listened casually until Jacques stopped mid-sentence.

"What can we do for you, Mademoiselle?" she heard him question. _Mademoiselle_? He couldn't be speaking to Edmond, so that could only mean a visitor! Arielle hoped that they would come far enough in the dungeons to pass her cell. The view of someone new could offer her some distraction, one that would be readily welcomed.

"My servant is in there. I demand you let me see them!" the girl's voice replied, seeming vaguely familiar to Arielle. Surely it couldn't be…

"Do you now?" Jacques said. "And who are you?"

"I am Adrienne, the youngest daughter of the Baroness d'Aurillac, and I wish to speak to Arielle." Adrienne! Arielle was right! She smiled in spite of herself.

"Arielle? You mean that Comtesse de whatever-it-is?" the snickers of Jacques resounded, making the most of his own distraction from his work.

"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle d'Aurillac, but no one is to see her. King's orders."

"Actually, Jacques," Edmond interjected, "The King said Prince Henri wasn't allowed to see her. I suppose she can." There was a pause as Jacques considered this, and Arielle prayed for them to let Adrienne in. She felt an urge in her stomach to see something familiar, someone friendly, and even if she could barely remember ever speaking to Adrienne before, at least her cousin was amiable.

Two pairs of footsteps sounded, heading into the damp narrow passageway of the dungeons. A haze of orange light grew brighter as Jacques held the torch, waving it methodically from side to side to gain his bearings within the prison and to lead Adrienne to the right spot. A flash of bright light blinded Arielle as the flame was thrust in the direction of her cell. Satisfied that he had located the right person, Jacques slid the burning stick into the holder provided for it, and pointed towards the door.  
"In there. Bring the torch back when you're finished."

As she heard Jacques' footsteps striding away from her, Arielle blinked her eyes to try to rid them of the pink and purple shapes that were forming before her – her punishment for looking straight at the torchlight after being in the dark for so long. They finally faded to aqua, and then became invisible, letting her see normally once more. She could see Adrienne peering cautiously into the cell, her own eyes adjusting to the dungeon's lack of light, her features marred by shadows. She became a silhouette, illuminated from behind by the flickering flame of the torch.

"Arielle?" The gently whispered name reverberated throughout the stone-walled dungeons, causing Adrienne to quiver in her unfamiliar surroundings. As she met Arielle's eyes, she shrieked out in spite of herself.

"Mademoiselle? Are you all right?" the rumbling voice of Jacques yelled from the entranceway.

"I'm all right," Adrienne waved towards them, and then turned back to Arielle, her eyes becoming accustomed to the dim light. "Arielle – there you are. Why are you all slouched down like that?"

Arielle began to reply, her mouth dry and her breath stale and fetid from her vomiting attack. As she leaned closer to where Adrienne was, she jerked as pain sliced its way through her body and the bones in her back gave out a loud '_crack'_. Instead of waiting for an answer, Adrienne sat herself comfortably on the compacted ground, eye-level with Arielle, as if she understood Arielle's turmoil.

"What are you doing here?" Arielle forced her voice to speak, hearing herself say the words in a hoarse whisper. She would have thought Adrienne would have taken her mother and sister's lead and distanced herself from the scandal Arielle had caused.

"I came here because – I don't know," Adrienne fiddled with a section of her dark tresses, twirling and untwirling it around her finger as she thought about the reason why she was sitting in the Royal dungeons, to visit with a servant she had never spoken two words to before. "Nothing's been the same since the ball. Mother and Nicolette cannot stop talking about how much they feel embarrassed by it, but then the next minute they celebrate that the prince is most definitely going to choose Nicolette as his bride – now that, well, you know."

Arielle made an effort to refrain from revealing any more of her stomach's contents.  
"Henri will never marry Nicolette. He hates her. He has more chance of marrying the Spanish princess."  
"He does?"

"Yes. Her constant trying to get close to him, putting everyone else down and exaggerating her own good deeds in order to get him interested in her."  
"It's always annoyed me, too," Adrienne admitted, "the way that I stand in the background and watch while they gush all over the Prince. It must make him so uncomfortable. I've always thought that one day he'll set the Royal Guard on them to escape them."  
"We can only hope," Arielle agreed, joining in the laughter. Smiling as she remembered Henri from the ball, Arielle placed her hand on the cool metal bar of the cell.

"Oh, your dress," Adrienne saw a tear along the arm of the garment. "You looked so beautiful that night, Arielle. Is it true – are you really our cousin?"

"Mademoiselle, we'd appreciate it if you came back now," Jacques voice echoed down the passage. Adrienne gave a defeated smile, but she hadn't finished with her questioning.

"Wherever did you get your dress from? And how did you learn to dance like that?"

"Mademoiselle!"  
"You saw me dancing?"

"I didn't know it was you – you looked so…different. You looked like a princess! Mother and Nicolette were extremely jealous. They tried their hardest to tear Prince Henri's eyes away from you, but I don't think it worked. He must really love you."  
"Mademoiselle, please!" Jacques had begun walking down the corridor in an effort to extract Adrienne from the depths of the dungeon. Arielle saw him and motioned to Adrienne to go. Adrienne nodded defeatedly, and scurried out of the prison.

* * *

Henri dismounted from his horse and handed the reins to one of the Guardsmen. There was a feeling of emptiness which settled itself inside of his stomach as he stared up at the Chateau d'Aurillac. Something was missing. He shrugged it off as he attempted to compose himself. He had spent the past few days melancholy, refusing to eat, to exit his chambers, or to receive anyone. He had bullied himself for what he had done and what he should have done but didn't. He fell into a long bout of sadness before he realised that none of this was going to help either himself or Arielle.

His head clouded, he had returned to the Records Office to ask again after the Comte de Savigny. The worker, presumably having heard of what had happened at the ball, humoured the prince and fetched the ledger. Henri waited with apprehension as the entry was read out in its entirety. _Louis Francois de Savigny, Comte. Born December 11, 1499. Died April 15, 1529. Married Jacqueline Gaussin. A daughter, Arielle Louise de Savigny, born 19 February, 1522. Died May 1, 1529._ At the mention of this last fact, Henri's body fell cold and he found it hard to breathe. Any hope he had of Arielle being right and the rest of the court being wrong had vanished. He had been lied to by the only person he had ever cared for.

More days had passed, as he wondered why Arielle had done such a thing. He had fallen in love with her when she was a servant - she had no need to concoct that lie, for he would have worked and worked at his father in order to grant their union. But she had made it all fall together too conveniently. But not now. Not when she had betrayed him.

He went to knock on the door of the Chateau d'Aurillac. He must apologise to the Baroness for the manner in which he had spoken to her the night of the ball, and thank her for saving him from making a horrible mistake. He must set things right.

It was Paulette who opened the door, surprised at the prince's presence at the house. Before she could say anything, Prince Henri spoke abruptly.

"It is urgent that I see the Baroness, Paulette. Is she in?"

"Yes, Your Highness. She is in the sitting room."  
"And Nicolette and Adrienne?" he asked, not wanting to be faced with them and their inane little ways so soon after the ordeal.

"They are in town. The Baroness claims she is too ill to go with them. Must be due to the ball, I think. Guilt, perhaps? How is Arielle?"

"I don't know," Henri answered, more curious of the other things Paulette had mentioned. "You said that the Baroness was suffering from-"  
"Hush your voice, Sire!" Paulette interrupted, furtively looking behind her. "The Baroness is most probably trying to listen to every word we say. If she asks, tell her that I was telling you that Mademoiselle Nicolette was not in – she won't suspect that. And be careful, Sire, she's been into the celebration wine for the past few days."

The Baroness was lying on a chaise lounge when Paulette announced that Prince Henri had requested to speak with her. She quickly adjusted her sleeves and smoothed down her dress as Henri stood in the doorway, waiting for her to greet him.

"Your Highness, such a pleasure," Loretta gushed as Prince Henri entered.

"Likewise, Baroness," he politely returned the greeting as she motioned for him to take a seat.

"Care for a drink? Wine? Champagne? Or how about a toast to your good health and successful marriage?" Henri declined, and sat in the armchair offered him.

"I noticed you spoke with Paulette for a length. Is everything alright?"

"Yes. She was just informing me that Nicolette was in town, but I assured her it was you I wished to see." He watched as the Baroness' face lit up at this comment. It was obvious what news she expected him to tell her. Perhaps it wasn't a bad idea if he did finally pursue Nicolette. Once she had the title she and her mother so hoped for, she may make a sweet, submissive wife.

"Your Highness appears to be in good spirits," Loretta began to converse. "Especially after my niece's shocking debut – she is still locked up in the dungeons, isn't she?" At this, all thoughts of potential marriage partners flew out of Henri's head. Had the Baroness just incriminated herself and admitted to what Arielle had held as the truth? Just how intoxicated was she?

"Pardon me, Baroness, but you said your niece?" he looked at her in wonderment. Loretta realised what she had accidentally divulged and, setting her glass down, sought to resolve it.

"Well, seeing as there are no other witnesses around, and the King already believes my testimony over yours, I guess there's no harm in telling you this. There's no way anyone would believe you."

"In telling me what?" Henri urged, angry that his melancholy of the past week could have been served by a better purpose. Loretta sat up straight and cleared her throat.

"It's true Arielle had been orphaned when she was sent to me, when she was seven years old. It was so sudden – Louis' death. Ours was the only family Arielle had left. But I had recently been widowed myself and was trying hard to bring up my own two girls. Money was tight then, and all of Louis' possessions were set aside for Arielle when she was older. It would have been too much of a strain to look after a third child, especially one of such a similar age to Nicolette. Elder girls need so much more attention."

"So you forced her to become a servant? So you wouldn't have to look after her?" Henri furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the story between Arielle's recollections and what the Baroness was now revealing.

"Initially, yes," Loretta answered simply. Henri noted her lack of emotion. It was as if she were actually proud of what she had done to Arielle, and of how the whole situation had turned out.

"And the records?" he questioned, remembering that they had been the clinching point that had caused all of his hastily scraped together life to come crashing down around him.

"To hide my guilt and have evidence to the contrary, I changed them – it's easy enough to do. Arielle was recorded as being under my care and I just…informed the Records Office that she had died. Fever. No questions were asked. I got Louis' money…It was supposed to stop situations like this from happening."

"What?" Henri was fuming. "To stop Arielle being competition for Nicolette?" he spat out.

"Yes, Your Highness. Arielle's mother's beauty gave her everything in life – power, influence, intrigue, and took everything away from others. I wasn't going to let Arielle do the same to my Nicolette. And now, it seems Nicolette has won. In a few days, the King will announce your engagement to Nicolette and Arielle will spend the rest of her pitiful days wasting away in the palace dungeons."  
"Arielle is a noblewoman," Henri confirmed aloud, still questioning what he had just heard.

"Yes," Loretta answered calmly.

"I could have you arrested for this!" Henri exclaimed, as the picture inside his mind fell into place, and he grew angry at the Baroness' apathy towards the situation. "You had no right!"

"Perhaps you could do something about it, but you have no proof. None of her family – us – recognise it. You know my story, and as far as Nicolette and Adrienne are concerned, she's just a simple serving maid."

"Mother!" a voice screeched as its body entered the chateau.

"Nicolette, precious," Loretta greeted her. "The prince has been looking for you." Henri glared back at her. Her whole life had been built on lying to get what she wanted, he realised. Henri wanted no part of it. But before he could make a quick exit, Nicolette appeared and curtsied, smiling demurely. "Your Highness."  
"Nicolette, you must excuse me," Henri addressed her. "You were so long in town – and I am expected home at any moment." The Baroness was not the only one who could tell a quick lie.

"Well! Your Highness is welcome back at any time he wishes," Nicolette purred as Loretta looked on.

"Yes, thankyou," Henri replied out of politeness, and nodded to the Baroness before heading outside where Alexandre waited with his horse.


	7. Chapter 6: The Evidence

**La Comtesse de Savigny**

**chapter six**

the evidence

The blinding afternoon sunshine which struck Henri as he emerged from the Chateau d'Aurillac felt strange and at odds with the barrage of emotions inside of him. He ground his teeth and curled his hands into fists so tight that his knuckles began to ache. How could she? How could the Baroness be so harsh and unfeeling? And to her own kin! Did it not gnaw at her soul?

"Returning home, Henri?" Henri focused his attention. He had almost forgotten Alexandre was there waiting for him.  
"Yes," he answered while Alexandre passed him his horse's reins. "I should not like to come here again. I detest Loretta d'Aurillac."  
Alexandre nodded as they began the ride back to Fontainebleau. "It was a terrible thing she did to Mademoiselle Arielle." Henri halted his horse and stared at him. "Alex, what did you say?"  
"Mademoiselle Arielle. La Comtesse de Savigny? The girl you can't get out of your head? How the Baroness forced her to become a servant – it's unthinkable!"  
"Where did you hear that?"  
"Just then at the chateau. The matron of the household allowed me to listen secretly. Between you and me, I think someone needs to relieve the Baroness of her drink. I hope I wasn't out of line."  
Henri waved him off. Alex had no need to fear any repercussion. It wasn't his conduct that mattered at this moment.  
"So you both heard that the Baroness stole what Arielle had rightfully inherited, and then pronounced Arielle dead to make her acquisition of it legal?"  
"Yes. Apparently, it is also common knowledge to the servants of the household. Many served the Comte de Savigny."  
"This is great news! If all of you testify – especially you, Alex, the Captain of the Royal Guard – then my father would have no choice but to believe Arielle!"

Alexandre sighed. It was his way of telling Henri that he was being impulsive again. Out of all of Henri's flaws, his worst was his tendency not to think things through properly before he said them and, consequently, taking rash action. He knew that. Henri's impetuousness irritated Alexandre, who always seemed to be more levelheaded.  
"Perhaps. If I may suggest another option…a different plan? The death of a member of the nobility not only has to be recorded. It usually results in a funeral and a gravesite."  
"The Baroness could have hidden it all! God knows what she would have done with that, after the tale she just told us!"  
"But the grave, Henri? Dug up, it could reveal to your father the ultimate truth."

For the remainder of the ride to the palace Henri's mind was occupied with the plan that Alexandre had devised. In order to give his father undeniable proof of the fact that _his_ Arielle was the same girl as the Comtesse de Savigny and had not perpetrated acts of deception he would have to make a visit to the Church and speak with the Bishop. Speak with the Bishop and ask him to do one of the worst things imaginable. Ask him to show Henri the location of Arielle de Savigny's supposed grave and attempt to exhume her. It went against all notions of religious morality, and it would truly be a miracle if the Bishop consented to such a thing happening, but it was the only way. The only way to exonerate Arielle from the charges made against her and the only way to condemn the Baroness for her actions.

* * *

"Have you lost your mind, boy?" the Bishop queried, obviously confounded at what had just been requested. He turned away from Henri and Alexandre, his footsteps echoing in the stillness of the church as he walked towards the front pews. Placing a hand on the polished wooden backrest, he took shallow breaths in quick succession as his ruddy countenance furrowed with concern. "It goes against everything we believe in! I cannot believe it is even being considered, especially by you, Sire."  
"But surely if it releases an innocent person from condemnation it is right!" Henri appealed, following the Bishop to where he stood.  
"And what will happen once this is done, and the corpse is present within the coffin? We will all be damned to hell. Disturbing one's earthly remains! What would become of us?"  
"But there _are_ no 'earthly remains'! The Baroness d'Aurillac herself admitted that Arielle de Savigny is still alive!"  
"Oh no, Henri, it is quite the opposite. I was there when they laid the girl to rest. Poor thing, she was so young. And it was so soon after her father. Quite a tragedy. Still, God calls who He will to live with Him. I cannot help you."

It was the answer that Henri had expected, but that didn't mean he felt any less dejected upon hearing the outcome. He turned and walked out of the church, knowing the only option left. If the Bishop wasn't going to give his approval and aid Henri, then the plan would have to continue without the Bishop's help. Motioning to Alexandre, he set off to locate the final resting place of Arielle de Savigny himself.

* * *

Henri tied up his horse to the railing of the fence which surrounded the cemetery, the animal's nose nuzzling his shoulder as he left it to join the solitary figure in the graveyard. Alexandre heard him coming, and looked up from the headstone he was examining.  
"Anything?" Henri asked, hoping that Alex had made some headway in the search.  
"No. Nothing. And I've checked the cemetery over three times."  
"Of course not!" Henri kicked at the ground, managing to send a tuft of dry grass flying. "We've spent days looking. It's not in any of the parishes' churchyards and there are no mausoleums for her family. Why should it be here?"  
"Where could it be then? It has to be _somewhere_. The Bishop said he was there when they buried her – the grave must exist."

Henri searched his mind. Wherever the gravesite was, it had to be somewhere where Arielle herself could not go. Somewhere where she couldn't stumble across her own headstone and question the Baroness about it. Somewhere that could be locked up…  
"The chateau!" Henri said triumphantly. The padlock and chains on the gates. The only place that Arielle had been denied access to. The only place the Baroness could be certain the grave would never be found.

"How do we get in?" Alexandre craned his neck as he looked up at the imposing entranceway. Henri walked up to it and rattled the chains, the heavy metal clunking against the iron of the tall gates. Examining them closely he found no sign of rust or weathering. There was no weak link to exploit. He shook the chain again. Finally, he ran towards them and collided with the bars, ramming the gates with his shoulder. The gates swayed but the chain and padlock remained intact.

Massaging his shoulder, he looked at his surroundings. The iron fence which bordered the chateau was overrun by vines that twisted their way over it, hiding the metal from plain view. They had already ridden the entire perimeter of the estate – this was the only way in.  
"We'll have to climb over." Henri looked at Alexandre, who nodded and tethered the horses to a nearby oak. Gripping the bar of the gate, Henri dragged himself up, wincing as the sharpness of the edge pressed into his skin. He dangled his legs until he could find a foothold. He pulled himself higher, trying to keep his balance as the gate shifted under his weight. Reaching the top of the gate, he gingerly positioned his body on the other side, cautious of the sharp arrowheads that crowned the gate, and let himself drop down onto the ground. Alexandre followed suit, and before long they were standing inside the boundary of a property that no one had entered in a decade.

The Chateau de Savigny stood silently. It seemed unnatural to have a building there with no one living within it. Some of its window shutters had not been fastened, and winked their peeling boards in the light breeze. Birds landed on the roof shingles, cocked their heads to one side and then fluttered off in search of a different roost. Moths hovered in the late-afternoon sunlight.  
"How should we do this?" Henri surveyed the area.  
"Divide it. You can search one half, and I'll search the other."  
They parted. Henri began walking along the stone path that surrounded the Chateau. He was anxious to find the grave. It had to be here somewhere amongst the monuments and greenery. He hurried past the desolate stables, the external servants' quarters and the stone outbuildings. He ignored the herb and vegetable garden. He pushed past the wall that separated the buildings from the ornamental gardens. Shielding his eyes against the sun, he looked around him.

What he saw was a vast expanse of lawn, riddled with weeds and a few clusters of wildflowers. Every so often, a topiary rose from the ground, its shape so deformed and disproportionate in size that it was not possible even to guess at what it once might have been.

He headed north, cutting across the grass to where an arch had been forced out of the overgrown hedging. After passing through the archway, he entered an old rose garden, the statues of nymphs and cherubs disfigured by time and strangled by wild climbers. Violets grew along the borders of the path which was strewn with old leaves from the ancient deciduous tree that stood in the centre of the garden. The leaves had been left to disintegrate over the years into a sickly brown mulch, and the smell of decay forced Henri to make a quick sweep of the area before tracing the path to the other side of the hedge.

He was nearing the back of the property. To his right, he could see Alexandre peeling back a mass of dehydrated stalks, peering behind them and then letting them fall back into place before moving on in his search. Henri continued, too, towards a hedge that seemed to tower over him. Finding the entrance inside the walls of foliage, he stepped inside.

It was dark in there; the amber sunshine barely glowed as it filtered through the gaps in the bushes. The hedge did not hinder the wind, however, and it swirled the newly dead leaves causing them to skip over the ground and land at Henri's feet. He raised his eyes to the centre of the quadrangle, and froze as he saw them.

They were all in a row, the three of them, sheltered by a great willow that emerged through the earth next to the Comtesse Jacqueline's grave. The stones were elaborate enough to suit their personage, though the Comtesse's grave was showing signs of its age, betrayed by the spidery cracks that were beginning to form in the stone. It also displayed the grave's closeness to the tree by the leavings of birds that warbled there. The grass grew long, and hid the epitaphs and dates of births and deaths. All that was visible were the carved names: _Jacqueline_, _Louis_, _Arielle_.

The wind picked up, its force beating Henri's clothes against his body and untucking his hair from behind his ears. In the distance, the horses whinnied. An involuntary shiver coursed through his nerves as Henri stared at the third grave and allowed his mind to wonder what might be found under the wild grass and dark soil.

"Henri!" Alexandre shouted as he rounded the corner of the hedging. "Found anything?" Henri remained motionless, letting Alex take in the scene for himself. Placing a hand on Henri's shoulder, Alexandre led him away. "Come on. We've got work to do."

Henri took one last look before they left. He had found the evidence to save Arielle. They would be back again.

* * *

Every click of the horses' horseshoes against the cobblestones of the path made Henri stop and look around to see if they were being followed. Even though Alexandre was with him, constituting the Royal Guardsman presence that Francois still forced upon him, Henri still felt uneasy.

Henri pulled the collar of his black cloak tighter around his neck. A breeze blew. The courtyard before him was deserted. He hurried across it, while Alexandre and the two horses followed in his wake. As he rounded the corner, he collided with the bulk of a man and staggered backwards, losing his footing and releasing the reins that he held.

As he looked up, Henri saw a burnished blade being pointed at him by one of the Royal Guardsmen; his face was too obscured by shadow for Henri to recognise who he was. The guard grabbed the hood of Henri's cloak and tugged it off his head. Sliding the sword back into its sheath, the guard stepped back to allow Henri to get to his feet.

"What are you doing?" a deep voice bellowed, and Henri turned to see his father walking towards them on one of his late-night strolls that he took when he couldn't get to sleep. Henri sighed. He hadn't wanted to get Francois involved, at least not until the night was over and they could plead their case properly by presenting him with their evidence.  
"We were going to the Chateau de Savigny."  
"To do what?" Henri looked back at Alexandre, who shrugged and didn't offer any help.  
"To see if it's true. To see if Arielle's really buried, as everyone says she is."  
"I thought you were past all of that," Francois wiped his hand across his forehead and stared at Henri. "The girl's dead!"  
"This is my way of proving it to myself, Father."  
"There are less morbid ways of doing so!"  
"Please – I need to do this. For my sanity."

Francois stood there for a few moments, drawing in breath. Henri stood, too, wondering what was running through his father's mind. Would he stop them from going? Forbid him from leaving the grounds of Fontainebleau?  
"Fine. I'm coming with you."  
"What?"  
"Your Majesty –" Alexandre tried to interrupt.  
"I'm coming with you. So that when you see it for yourself, we can hide it and never speak of it again. And also so I know that no one has tampered with the evidence before I get there."

Henri nodded. If his father volunteered to come, so be it. So long as he didn't foil their plans, at least there'd be another pair of hands to help. Francois sent the guard to fetch a horse and, after he had returned from the stables, commanded that the guard join them in their pursuit. After all had been readied, they set out for the Chateau de Savigny.

* * *

The cover of night made everything appear changed. Though the distant light of the crescent moon provided some illumination, the estate of the Chateau de Savigny seemed horribly shrouded in darkness. Placing one hand on the bar of the gate, Henri began to pull himself over.  
"Don't think that I'll be climbing anything!" the King shouted, his voice booming through the stillness of the night. Henri climbed back down.  
"This is the way, Father." Henri folded his arms across his chest. "How else would you suppose we get in?"  
Letting out a huff, Francois turned towards the Royal Guardsman who had accompanied them and who Henri had left in charge of his horse.  
"Guard!" The man hurried forward and drawing tools out of seemingly nowhere, began to work at the padlock. Henri threw a questioning look at his father who gave the explanation: "His father was a locksmith."

Within a few seconds, the guard had loosened the chains and unwrapped them from the bars, leaving them to fall with a clunk to the ground. The gates swung open and the metal halves grated against each other. The noise vexed Henri and made him shudder. The horses pulled against their reins as they fought to ease themselves from the sound.

Climbing back on his horse, Henri led the way down the path, across the lawn, past the rose garden. The shovels clanged with the movement of the horses, the torches they held compensated for the lack of moonlight. Before long, the overgrown hedge came into view. The men left their horses and gathered around the black aperture, which served as the entrance of their destination.

The moonlight, as meagre as it was, did not enter here. The enclosure was as black as pitch. Henri shivered. Over the tops of the pine trees he could see the roof of the chateau, a monolith silhouetted against the white half-circle hanging in the sky. He remembered how excited Arielle had been when she showed him it, a fortnight ago. The light in her eyes as she told him of her memories! Would that light have dimmed, now that she lay trapped in prison? Would the evidence from this night's outing restore it?

He stepped through the gaping archway, the torch held in front of him illuminating the grisly sight of the trio of headstones underneath the wilting branches of the willow tree. Behind him, he could hear his father gasp. Alexandre seemed to take little notice of the situation, instead untying the digging implements from the horses and placing them on the unruly grass. One at a time, he handed them out. Henri took his, and then walked over to the last headstone. They must be careful where they dug for this to work properly. He had no desire to accidentally reveal either of Arielle's parents to the cool summer night air.

As he looked to Alexandre to help him mark out the approximate rectangle in which they should dig, he saw Francois refuse the spade that the Captain held out to him. Leaving his sovereign holding the two torches, Alexandre handed the guard his spade and they joined Henri to decide precisely where to begin.

"Ready?" Alexandre asked, his spade poised over the grass, which shimmied in the wind. Henri nodded as he drew in a deep breath. The time for the truth had arrived, and the sooner it was over, the better.

Alexandre was the first to slice into the ground, pulling up a shovelful of dirt and pausing to ensure that the soil would land neither on the gravesite nor on the King before depositing it in a heap. The sound of grass ripping away from its roots and the grate of the spades as they dug deeper filled the night air, soon joined by the gasps which betrayed the men's exertion. For every sound the shovel made, Henri's heart matched it with a thundering beat. As the hole grew deeper and deeper, the Bishop's words came back to Henri. The sense of immorality about the whole situation, which the Bishop had stressed to them, gnawed at Henri. What if the Baroness had put something else in there, to make it appear like Arielle had really died? She couldn't have. Surely not! Placing another child's corpse in there is too low, even for the Baroness…

The loud thud as the metal shovel hit the wooden coffin brought a simultaneous mix of relief and apprehension. The shovel has pierced the top of the box sending splinters flying. Henri wriggled his shovel out of the top of the box and then paused to ensure that everyone was prepared before he revealed its contents to the world. He scraped away the remainder of the dirt to reveal the full length of the small coffin.

"On three?" Alexandre looked at Henri. Henri nodded and noticed that his father had crept closer as the three diggers prepared to pry open the box. "One…two…three!"

The lid peeled open easily, the decay of the wood evident as it lay in the grass, snapped into three long panels. Alexandre took one of the torches that Francois was holding, and shone it into the grave.

Henri's eyes widened as he took in the contents of the coffin. There was no child's body; there was no body at all. Instead, a pile of smooth riverbed stones the size of his palm sat there, amidst the dirt and rubble that had filtered down the sides of the hole. His father looked shocked and dumbfounded all at the same time. His eyes glanced to Henri and then to the hole and back again, his lips quivering as he tried to make sense between what he had been told and the evidence before him. Henri smiled as he stuck his spade into the ground and leant on it.

"Well, Father? What do you have to say to that?"


	8. Chapter 7: Release

**La Comtesse de Savigny**

**chapter seven**

release

Henri woke up happy for the first time in days. Reaching across to pull the covers away from himself, he climbed out of his canopy bed, his eyes still half-closed. He didn't want to open them for fear that he would lose the feeling of warmth and joy he had after triumphing over his father at the Chateau de Savigny the night before.

Steadying himself to keep his balance, he raised his hand against the mid-morning sunshine that spilled through the window and created a square of light on the parquet floor. He walked over to the arched window and surveyed the vista before him. The sky was of a deep blue, the sort which tells of a fine summer's day being ahead. Two fluffy clouds floated next to the blinding sun. A breeze rustled across the blades of grass, causing the green hills to appear to shimmer as the gusts blew their way across. Lowering his gaze to the town, Henri could see its inhabitants bustling around fulfilling their errands. Could any of them be as content as he was at this moment? He doubted it.

The only obstacle between him and Arielle now was the iron bars that kept her trapped in her cell and his father should be signing a release at this very moment. Henri took a deep breath and yawned. He had not slept much last night.

Allowing his line of vision to drop further he saw the courtyard and heard shouts as each of his five senses gradually woke up in its own time. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he saw guardsmen pulling prisoners out of the dungeons and loading them onto a cart. What was happening? Perhaps he should pay a visit to the King.

Henri barged in to the throne room. His father was seated reading over some papers, a cluster of aged aides and advisors around him. All eyes in the room turned to Henri.

"What's happening down there?" Henri pointed out of the window, where the horses hauling the cart passed, the stern faced driver cracking his whip to force them to drive faster.

"The Cardona thieves? They were caught red-handed trying to steal the Queen's jewels. They're being properly dealt with. Hanging, of course."

Francois picked up a quill pen and with a big flourish signed his mark to the bottom of the paper he was holding.

"She's not with them, if you're wondering. That's what you're afraid of, isn't it? That I've gone back on my word?"

Henri stood there, feeling awkward. Francois produced an envelope, freshly stamped with the wax yet to harden.

"Since you're here, perhaps you wouldn't mind taking this to the dungeon? I would have given the task to Captain Perrain, but I think it would be better served by you."

* * *

He had never run so fast through the building. Unaware servants leapt out of the way as he bolted towards the dungeons, the contents of their trays crashing to the floor. His shoulders ached as he knocked into the sides of doorways. Finally, he burst outside and found himself at the entrance of the dungeons. 

Jacques and Edmond were at their posts, Edmond busy scribbling in his ledger while Jacques paced back and forth in front of the doorway. As Henri stormed up to them, they both stood to attention, blocking the entry to the prison.

"Let me through!" Henri demanded, holding the document of release towards them.

"Sire, you have no business down here," Jacques replied, folding his arms across his chest. "We are under strict orders to -" Henri slapped the piece of parchment down on to the weathered table with so much force that the ledger fell and thudded on to the ground.

"A document signed by the King's own hand, demanding the release of Arielle de Savigny."

"What?" Edmond said in spite of himself as he sat down to examine it. Henri was growing impatient with them. He couldn't wait any longer.

"Now get her or else let me through!"

"But the paperwork, Sire! I must fill in these records before we can release her."

"Let me through," he stared at Jacques, before grabbing a torch and pushing his way into the dungeons.

"Arielle!" Henri called out, his voice echoing, as he shone the torch into each cell as he passed. "Arielle!"

Afaint voice answered him. Moving the light in the direction of the voice, he saw her. She was huddled up against one side of the cell, her hair falling tangled and scraggly over her shoulders, her dress ingrained with dirt.

She looked weak and pale. She looked down, turning her eyes away from the bright light that was emitting from the flame of the torch. She had one hand curled around a bar of the cell. Henri covered it with his own hand, trying to be calm and reassuring while at the same time feeling frustration well up inside of him. "How long does it take to process a simple document?" Henri asked out loud. "Guards! Come and unlock this door at once!"

"But Sire," the Edmond's distant voice reverberated down the corridor, "We have to record the –"

"Record it later! The King has ordered her release and I demand you to come and unlock this door!"

Jacques relented, and lumbered towards them, his keys clattering against their key ring with each step he took. After waiting for Henri to move out of his way, he inserted the key into the lock, and with a twist of grinding metal, the door groaned open.

Henri rushed into the cell, and dragged Arielle up from where she was sitting. As he turned to lead her out of the dungeons, he heard a thud. Arielle had collapsed._  
_

* * *

Arielle sat leafing through a book of poetry while the Queen's ladies in waiting pulled at her hair, adjusted her dress, and opened the heavy curtains to let in the light. She still felt odd. She had woken up, her head nestled in a comfortably plump pillow, and her body tucked into a mound of sheets and blankets. She didn't know how she'd gotten there. She thought that she'd fallen asleep while clearing up after Nicolette and had collapsed into her cousin's bed. She tried to pull herself up to get out of the bed, only to find that her legs refused to move. It was then that she remembered. 

The Queen's attendants had bustled in, introduced themselves and informed her that she had been asleep for two days. She had been given the same chamber that she had as a dressing room on the night of the ball. They led her around the room until the feeling came back to her legs, and then they proceeded to help her bathe and dress. She had been given a deep burgundy gown to wear that seemed far more elegant than any Nicolette had ever owned.She was then left to wait with her book.

Knocking turned her attention from the text to the doorway, where one of the ladies in waiting was showing Henri in. Holding out his hand, Henri helped Arielle to her feet. Exiting the chamber, they began walking towards the throne room to meet with the King and Queen and discuss what was to happen now that Arielle was released from the dungeons and free from the Baroness' clutches.

Arielle remembered the hallways from when Captain Perrain had led her through there the night of the ball, and how she had wanted to gaze at the pictures and ask about them. She took the opportunity now, and asked Henri, who told her of the chateau at Blois, the winter residence at Paris, the river in the Loire Valley, and a thousand other sights she had never seen.

Rounding a corner, they entered yet another hallway of paintings and portraits. A young lady of about fifteen stood in front of one, examining it.

"Hello, Marguerite," Henri greeted as they approached her. "Have you met –"

"Arielle de Savigny," Marguerite finished his sentence before turning to Arielle. "I've heard a lot about you, from my stepmother. And from Henri, of course."

"Arielle, meet my youngest sister, Marguerite." Arielle nodded to her, before looking at the portrait Marguerite had been so taken with before their arrival. A noblewoman with wavy blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and white skin stared back at her. "Who is that?"

Marguerite glanced back at the painting. "That," she said confidently, "Is the Comtesse Jacqueline de Savigny."

"My mother," Arielle whispered under her breath as she gazed at the picture. It was the first time she had ever seen her, and a swirl of emotions erupted inside of her. This was the person the Baroness hated so much as to treat her as she had. This was the person who had given her life so that Arielle could live.

Court was not in progress, and so there was no one to introduce them when Henri, Arielle and Marguerite entered the throne room. King Francois was over by the window, while the Queen was busy with needlework. As Henri led Arielle closer, they raised their heads, and the king wandered back over to his chair.

"Your Majesties," Arielle curtsied to them, trying to contain the nervousness and bewilderment she had been feeling since she had woken up inside the palace. The king shifted in his seat, and cleared his throat.

"When I saw and heard evidence of what the Baroness d'Aurillac had done to you, I was deeply ashamed. We should have realised you were Louis and Jacqueline's daughter the night of the ball. You look so much like she did. It was only that Loretta had misled the Records Office, so it was unbelievable that it was true."

A pause ensued. Arielle didn't know whether she should say something or keep to herself. The rest of them were stony-faced, their minds on the actions of the Baroness and her ruthlessness in avenging the wrongs she imagined Arielle's mother had committed against her, and in attempting to claim the throne for herself.

"Now, for this wedding," Queen Elenore interrupted the silence. "Of course, your aunt and cousins won't be invited…have you any other kin to speak of?" she looked at Arielle while beginning to list off names on her fingers to compile a guest list.

"Wedding, Your Majesty?" Arielle repeated, feeling as if she had missed something.

"I do take it that after all that has happened, you two still wish to be married?" she queried.

"After all," the king smiled, "The engagement was announced at the ball…"


	9. Chapter 8: Ever After

**La Comtesse de Savigny**

**chapter eight**

ever after

"Your Majesties," the Baroness d'Aurillac curtsied to Francois and Elenore. Her daughters, who had followed her out of the church, did the same. Francois shivered; whether it was due to cold or from being in the presence of the Baroness he did not know. Whichever it was, he hoped that Elenore would make this quick. He had begun to wish he had gone to worship in the palace's chapel, where Henri and Arielle were currently taking Mass, instead of venturing out to the cathedral to maintain a public face and mingle with such vile characters as Loretta d'Aurillac.

"Would it be possible for you to meet with me at the palace this afternoon?" Elenore asked after the regulatory greetings had been exchanged. "To discuss my son's wedding?"

"It will be my pleasure," the Baroness replied, a self-congratulatory smile creeping onto her lips. Francois was appalled. You could practically see the woman's eyes light up as she comprehended what Elenore had asked of her!

She had comprehended incorrectly, of course. The Baroness had easily been tricked via some carefully constructed words, and her own perception of events. As far as she knew, Arielle was still in the dungeon, and Francois himself on the lookout for a daughter-in-law. However, thank goodness, neither were true. Henri and Arielle had been given a right Royal wedding the week previous, with all of the French nobility and foreign monarchs there to witness the occasion and enjoy the merriment that carried on afterwards. Meanwhile, Royal Guardsmen had been stationed around the Chateau d'Aurillac. The youngest daughter and the head housekeeper were extracted from the house and kept at the castle for the duration of the celebration under Henri's orders, who knew how important each was to Arielle and how much she had relied on each of them. Loretta and Nicolette, on the other hand, had been informed of an outbreak of the plague, and were forced to keep themselves within the confines of the Chateau. It was through this means that they were unaware of the marriage, and were able to keep daydreaming about the day when they themselves would take up residence at the Castle Fontainebleau.

The Baroness had dreamed her last. This afternoon, everything that Loretta d'Aurillac had hoped for would vanish for good.

"Nicolette! Are you ready?" Loretta yelled down the hallway as she rearranged her necklaces.

"Yes, Mother!" Nicolette answered, fiddling with the cuffs of her emerald green dress as she marched out of her room. She stopped just short of Loretta and twirled, allowing Loretta to examine her appearance. Finding it to her satisfaction, Loretta began to look for her second daughter.

"Where _has_ Adrienne got to?"

"She stayed behind in town. Something about going to visit a friend," Nicolette muttered absent-mindedly.

"A friend? That girl has no friends!" Loretta scoffed as she walked out of the chateau and was helped into the carriage that waited for them. "I don't believe what's got into her. Ever since Arielle's been gone she's been off almost every afternoon. Oh well, I'm sure Adrienne's presence is of little concern to the Royal family. Especially not when we have more important matters to attend to."

* * *

The carriage drove through the gates of Fontainebleau and Loretta smiled. Outside, the summer sun was shining, and she could hear the chirping of baby birds as they made their first attempts to fly. This was the start of a new life for herself. She would be invited to every party, every ball, every social gathering the nobility of France would ever care to throw, as surely they would not make a social gaffe by forgetting to invite the Dauphin's mother-in-law! 

The palace of Fontainebleau came into view, its yellow walls contrasting with the deep blue sky. As she looked out of the carriage window at the green gardens and the fountain that gave the estate its name, Loretta saw the courtiers who were milling around, peering into the carriage and shaking their heads at her, a look of disgust on their faces. _They must already have heard that their daughters have missed out, and they are sore with me!_ This caused her to fill with even more happiness.

As the carriage reached the twin staircases at the entrance to the palace, the horses slowed. One of the Royal Guardsmen opened the door and helped both Loretta and Nicolette out of the carriage, before leading them up one of the staircases and into Fontainebleau itself. As they reached the throne room, Loretta straightened her back and held her head up high. She would enter the room a courtier, but she would emerge as royalty.

"Your Majesties," the Guardsman called out. "May I present the Baroness d'Aurillac, and her daughter." Loretta stepped through the door, and was surprised to find that court was in session. When the Queen had invited her here she had supposed it would be for a private discussion. Well, if their Majesties wished all of the court to celebrate with them in the engagement announcement, Loretta would not cross them.

Loretta glided towards the King and Queen, and curtsied as she reached them. The rustle of a dress behind her indicated to her that Nicolette had done the same. She looked up at the monarchs. Queen Elenore had always had a harsh, stern look to her, but to Loretta's surprise King Francois' usual jovial expression had turned into a bitter one. His attention changed from her to the back of the room as the door creaked open once again.

"Presenting their Royal Highnesses, Prince Henri and Princess Arielle."

"What?" Loretta accidentally said aloud. Perhaps she had heard incorrectly. _Surely it is one of his sisters_, she thought with hope, knowing well that Princess Marguerite was the only one of the prince's siblings to be still alive. It just couldn't be otherwise!

She gingerly turned around, and felt a sudden chill replace the glow she had experienced before. She felt like she had seen a ghost. It could have so easily been Jacqueline de Savigny standing there, her hand on Prince Henri's arm, and that knowing smile on her face. Instead, it was Arielle in the blue silk dress, with the cluster of pearls about her neck, and the tiara on her head. Arielle who had no right to be a princess, who had no reason to be a princess, who shouldn't be a princess. How had this happened?

"Baroness, Nicolette, may I introduce you to my wife?" Prince Henri spoke, walking to the front of the room as the door closed with a shudder.

"Your wife, Your Highness?"Loretta stammered, desperately trying to comprehend how Arielle had gone from a prisoner to a princess without her noticing. Surely someone would have told her if Arielle had escaped from the dungeons. The gossipmongers among them would have been in their element if the Prince was to marry a girl who, for all they knew, was a commoner. A _servant_!. She would have heard something while she was in town!

_Oh, no!_ Loretta thought back. There had been a few days when she had not been able to go into town. The plague scare – a week after she had drunkenly exposed the truth to the Prince. Surely no one had truly believed him! The records stated in black and white that there was no one named Arielle de Savigny alive. The evidence was mounted in her favour.

"Mother, look what she has done!" Loretta heard Nicolette shriek. Her daughter's voice seemed distant compared to all of the voices resounding in her own head. Every word she had said, every word the Prince had spoken, every action Arielle had performed in the past two months was whirling through her mind. She had to make some sense out of it. She had to find a way to make things right. She couldn't let Jacqueline one-up her once again.

"Your Majesties," Loretta tried to retain her composure, "She is not who she claims to be!"

"Baroness d'Aurillac," the King spoke with a jaded tone, "You are aware of what the punishment is for treachery, are you not?"

"Of course! Beheading! And if you ask me, Your Majesty, it is a most fitting punishment for what this girl has done. Performing her tricks and lies to weasel her way into the Royal family!"

"This girl has done nothing but obey your every command, Baroness," the King growled. "Meanwhile, you are the one whose treachery shall be punished."  
"My treachery?" Loretta laughed nervously, "Whatever do you mean, Your Majesty?"

"What are they talking about, Mother?" Nicolette's voice wavered as she looked to Loretta to sort everything out.

"It's all a mistake, surely." They didn't have anything on her to judge that she had committed treason! She had ensured that all of her tracks were covered, that no one could discover the truth…

"Don't start with me, Baroness. Your claims of Arielle being a servant girl may have seemed plausible on the night of the ball, but we have obtained some new information."

"If you obtained it from your son, Your Majesty, then it is riddled with lies. You know that girl has bewitched him!"

"Your Majesties," Nicolette stepped in, "Arielle has been a servant in our home forever."

The room fell silent, and Loretta gave a sigh of relief. Nicolette's testimony would stick. Her daughter would save her from the axe. Their Majesties should believe that Nicolette would remember the death of a cousin her own age. Things like that scar children for life. It had been the reason she had kept Nicolette and Adrienne away from their Uncle Louis, no matter how many times he had asked them to visit. So that they would have no chance of remembering their cousin.

"You never met your uncle, did you Nicolette?" Loretta cringed as the King broke the silence.

"The Comte de Savigny?" Nicolette said in awe. "No, not that I remember, Your Majesty."

"She has!" Loretta desperately alleged, "When she was a child – one or two, I remember!"

"She cannot, Baroness," the King sneered, quietening her from making another outburst.

"It was such a perfect plan, I must agree with you," Queen Elenore finally spoke. "You wanted Nicolette to be all that she could be, didn't you? You brought her up to be the Queen of France, and you would accept nothing less."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Loretta answered, realising the futility of lying. They might as well send for the executioner now - it seemed as though they had already condemned her. "Doesn't any mother want the best for her child?" She mentally kicked herself as she remembered that the Queen had no children. Loretta felt tears springing to her eyes as she realised she was sending herself to her own grave.

"Therefore, when your brother died, and his daughter brought into your home, you had to make a decision." Loretta watched Nicolette gasp at the Queen's information as she made sense of it. Everything was against her. She had better explain herself.

"I imagined she'd be in the way. Three girls are a handful. Jacqueline's daughter was not going to take anything away from mine. She's lucky I took her in at all. She could have rotted away on the streets for all I cared." An audible gasp sounded from the crowd of courtiers who stood in attendance. Loretta had forgotten that they were even there.

"So you forced her to become a servant," Queen Elenore continued. "You claimed that Arielle de Savigny died under your care, had it recorded in the books, even made a grave."

"Mother, is this true?" Nicolette interrupted in disbelief, her faith in her mother disappearing.

"Except there was one problem…"  
"And what was that, Your Majesty?"

"There was no body in the coffin, Baroness," Henri divulged. "Only rocks to weigh it down. How do you explain that?"

"Well…I…" Loretta began, unsure of what to say that could aid in her defence.

"Loretta d'Aurillac," King Francois commanded, "I hereby find you guilty of treachery to the Crown. You should have considered the repercussions of your actions, Loretta. Justice always comes, in the end."

* * *

Arielle put her hand on the cold twist of iron. She didn't know whether she should open it. Stepping through that door may stir up memories that she might not want to remember. She turned around and saw Henri, Paulette and Adrienne standing behind her, smiles of encouragement on their faces. Arielle knew she had to go inside. She took a deep breath, and pushed the heavy oak door open. 

The room she walked into was gleaming. Sunlight streamed through the open windows, creating spotlights that highlighted tapestries of mountains and rivers, of castles, and of the Biblical stories. The roof above her was patterned with shapes made of gold, and chairs lined the walls of the hall. A magnificent chandelier dangled from the ceiling, the multitude of prisms hanging from it throwing off rainbows of light. In its time, it had been the ballroom where noblemen and women had danced, drunk and enjoyed the entertainment put on by their host, the Comte de Savigny. Arielle remembered sneaking down late at night to peer through the crack of the doors to watch the revelry. She'd stare at the ladies in their beautiful gowns and the debonair gentlemen eating their five-course banquets and be enthralled with it all. Then, the crack in the doorway had seemed like the entrance to a surreal world. Now, she was past its threshold.

She took up her skirts and ran towards the sitting room, Adrienne, Paulette and Henri hurrying after her. This room, too, had been made sparkling clean, and looked no different from the day, ten years ago, when she had sat there with Paulette holding her hand, as she waited to be taken to her aunt's. The Chateau de Savigny had been fully restored.

"Henri, it cannot be!" Arielle exclaimed, overjoyed with happiness. "Everything is just as my father left it!" She ran to one room after the next, wondrous at how familiar and comfortable it all felt after such a long time. Everything had been so perfectly preserved. Henri followed her, caught up in her enthusiasm at seeing the old chateau's interior once more.

After she had finally stopped exploring, he smiled and took her hands in his.

"My father said that you didn't have to take up residence in the palace if you didn't want to." Arielle stood there in amazement, with a smile on her face so large she could feel her skin hurting. How much she wanted to live here, in her own home!

Arielle turned back to face Henri and Paulette and smiled. She was finally where she belonged. She was free.

* * *

Author's Note: I'd just like to say thanks to everyone who read this story, and especially to those who provided comments and constructive criticism. I hope you all enjoyed reading! 


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